Freedom at last
by Arzani92
Summary: Is freedom valued higher than your own life? This question haunts Benn, because if he trades, he will trade his life for freedom. He is a slave, and a necklace ensures his obedience, because it can explode anytime, if his master wishes. He knew, even though people claim his body, they will never claim his soul. When he is sold again, his new master puts his beliefs to a hard test.
1. sold again

It was warm outside. Not as hot as in summer, but still warm. Summer was unbearable in Alubarna when the sun burned skin, made plants wither and the residents crave for a little rain. However, inside of the large house it was cool, the soft splashing of the fountain sounded through the inner courtyard, and a man with a white beard and the frame of many lived years rested on a divan bed. His eyes were a milky gray from the illness that took most of his sight away.

Benn entered the room, soundlessly as always, tray in hand, filled with some tea and cookies. His bare chest was covered by a necklace, golden and heavy, the attached ruby a constant reminder to the world that he was nothing. Nothing but a thing people could buy, use and sell.

He shifted the tray in his hands and some of the glasses chinked together. The sound caused the old man to turn, his eyes trying to see, even though it was hard and nearly impossible by now.

"Benn, is that you?" he asked, his voice rusty and low. He wouldn't live much longer, probably not even long enough to have to face total blindness. It was nothing Benn really cared about. He would not remain in this house when time took the life of his current owner.

"Yes Master, it's me," he spoke, voice neutral as ever. His whole being was indifferent. His voice, his eyes, his expressions and his stance. Some people would call it arrogant, others bold. For Benn, it was the only way to not totally lose who he was, even though he wasn't sure if he even was someone.

When he reached the man who owned him, he placed the tray on a small table in front of the divan and knelt in front of it. Benn picked up one of the glasses and placed it into the hand of his master. He couldn't assume the old man would pick it up by himself, because he couldn't see it anymore.

Benn's hand softly but firmly opened the fragile fingers, then closed them around the glass again. He made sure to show were the cookies stood, too, before he pushed himself up, ready to leave.

"Wait, before you go," his master said, and Benn halted in his movements, turning to face the man, even though that wasn't necessary to speak with him. There had been a time when the old man had loved to strip Benn with his eyes, but this was some months ago. Now he couldn't do that anymore.

"Yes, Master?" Benn said to indicate he was still here. He wondered why. He wondered why he never tried to run, to just risk it and leave. His fingers brushed the ruby, and he frowned. He knew why. Because he still treasured his life, and the moment he would go, the jewel would release its energy, explode and take Benn with it, down to the darkness that was the only thing remaining in death. No one had been able to answer his question if freedom is valued higher than your own life. He would wait until someone could honestly answer it.

By now, the old man had sat up, and his hand tapped the cushion next to his body. "Come here," he said, and Benn followed his wish, as he was supposed to follow every demand his owner made. He could force Benn, if he refused, the small golden ring on his left middle finger ensured it.

"I'm getting old, Benn. Really, really old. You served me well. Always a nice sight. Always polite. You served me well. But I'm not really active anymore, as you know. I'm sorry I can't keep you. But I will take a high price, to make sure you will get a nice home. Mhm mhm, yes, a nice home you will get, and I will get some nice money for my grandchildren..."

The voice broke and faded, but Benn could see that the thought made his master happy. He didn't discuss any of it. It wasn't worth telling a person who always got what they wanted and if not, could buy it with money, that a slave never had a home. One needed to be free to have a home, and Benn wasn't free. He had seen more houses, cities and countries than most people would ever see in their lives. But still, all that was left was nothingness. He wasn't free and so he didn't see the need to correct the old man. People like his master would never understand, and tended not to listen, anyway.

As a pleasure slave, Benn knew his master would make good money. They were sold by the highest prices, if famous, people would actually kill over some of the best slaves. Benn was one of them. His body was in perfect shape, his owners usually made sure he could train several times a week, to keep it that way. He had no scars, at least none visible, alabaster skin and the face of a foreigner, just enough mystery and elegance in it to drive people wild by merely looking at him. He knew how to pleasure both men and women and he could fulfill random other tasks, like serving, which was highly appreciated by the ladies. People loved to desire him, and they loved even more to use him. It was what he was bought and sold for. He wouldn't tell those lords and ladies that he could actually do a lot more, that he knew how to handle money, knew how to run a business. Those things, people didn't need to be aware of. They spent their money so he could please them. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Yes, Master," Benn answered the little speech, not giving anything away. What could he do about it, anyway? He could only live with it and hope the next one who bought him would treat him nice enough. Not all of the lords and ladies who bought themselves slaves were nice to them. Nevertheless, as a pleasure slave, torture was mostly done mentally, to not harm the body that would bring money when sold. Also, a lot of people didn't want to look at scars while having sex. Benn could endure mental torture. He had and he would again.

"You're still sitting next to me, right Benn?"

The voice was saturated with triumphant, as if the man was proud he had managed to see at least that much, and Benn answered with a plain, "Yes, Master."

"Good. Make me feel good!" came the command, and Benn's eyes went neutral again. He locked his heart behind steel as he opened the buttons on the shirt and the trousers while brittle fingers touched his chest and tried to claim him. Benn let them believe they succeeded, even though he knew no one ever did. Because even though they claimed his body, nobody would ever own his soul.

It was warm outside the house. Not as warm as in summer, but still warm. However it wasn't the reason Benn Beckman only wore some light trousers and a necklace. It never would be, Benn knew it never would be, as his current master, blind, old and rugged, moaned under his touches.

* * *

The procedure was always the same. Slave stood next to slave, body next to body. It didn't matter if they were men or women, as long as they wore the necklace, they were slaves and therefore worth some money. Normally, a lot of people, mostly lords or ladies, people of wealth and fame, would stroll through the auction house, looking at the merchandise and deciding what was the best they could afford with their money. If two buyers wanted the same slave, they had to outbid the other and the last owner could be happy over some extra money.

Today, though, it was different. The hall was empty, except of each and every slave the auctioneer had in stock. All of them, Benn was sure of it, had been displayed today, even though he didn't know why. Then a man, he was called Disko, entered and his usually friendly looking face was distorted with anger and disgust. He knew how to fool the buyers, he just didn't put that much effort in his mask when facing his goods.

"I want all of you to behave yourself today. If one of you doesn't, I will personally punish you and beat you up until I can see your bare bones. One of the Yonkos is coming today, got it? Behave!" he shouted, and Benn could feel the mood shifting. Fear rose, mostly in the children and women, but some of the men shivered too, while others stood straighter than before, maybe hoping to make a good impression and being bought by one of the four most powerful people in the world. Benn didn't care. This was the territory of Kaidou. He wouldn't want to serve that monster. He wouldn't want to serve any of them.

There were four people who ruled most of the known land. They were called the Yonko, and their territory covered most of what people had explored so far, which wasn't much. A lot of places were still unknown, and as they were discovered by adventurers working under the Yonko, they were also claimed. The people either loved or feared those four, mostly depending on the area they lived in. Despite what people said about them, Benn knew they were powerful and therefore no one he wanted to be owned by. Powerful people tended not to care for their underlings and throw away their slaves like garbage. If he could avoid the attention of that Yonko, he would.

His expression was indifferent as ever, fully aware that it could bring down the wrath of either Disko or that Yonko, but he didn't care too much. He was probably one of the highest priced people in here. That idiot of an auctioneer would stop anyone from killing or torturing him before he got his money. Dead people didn't sell well. Benn would start worrying when he was sold, and not before.

When the door opened, all eyes were drawn to it, Benn's as well. However, he heard a voice before he saw the matching face enter the room. It was a tall man, with black hair and a frown on his face. He didn't look very happy at all, as he crossed his arms before his chest and looked at someone Benn couldn't see yet.

"Do you really think this is wise? Honestly, I don't want a war just because you want to act like a saint. I'm not fighting for you, you hear? I am not! Kaidou can beat you to the ground, and I will not care at all..."

Whatever those words meant, Benn knew in an instant that it wasn't Kaidou who visited. It was strange, as normally a Yonko didn't enter the other one's territory. Not that it changed much, but it baffled Benn. Both that this Yonko seemed bold enough not to play by the rules and also that the black-haired man was talking like this to his superior, without being punished, locked away or killed.

"Come on, Yasopp, don't be a scaredy-cat. This will be alright. It's a free country, after all," someone laughed and this laugh sent chills down Benn's spine. He had never heard such an open and honest laugh, ever. It was straightforward and true and something Benn wished he could do himself, too.

The man who entered now had vivid red hair, a smile that seemed to cover all of his face and the brightest eyes. He was handsome, even though three parallel scars ran over his left eye. Only a moment later, Benn realized who he was. Shanks, a Yonko, one of the most powerful men in history… and totally in the wrong territory.

"It's a free country, but it's not your free country," another voice answered, and eventually, Benn managed to look away from the Yonko and to his second companion behind him. The man was at least thrice his size, but not in the height, but in the width, and he still had something to eat in his hand. What kind of companions were that?! he wondered.

"Yes, yes, I know. Thanks for the reminder," Shanks answered and finally looked away from his company into the room. Benn had never seen an expression shift so fast, but what had been happiness and joy before, was now covered rage and a fury that was very well hidden somewhere deep down in the Yonko's heart. Only his eyes betrayed him. Maybe not even those, but Benn knew this look. He knew the indifference that covered everything a person wasn't allowed to give away. He wondered whether he had been the only one who noticed that shift. As subtle as it was, and most people would just call it neglect, Benn knew it wasn't. It was rage, a rage no one was allowed to see, not even his companions. Benn just wondered why Shanks was looking like that. He was a Yonko after all, a person seen as a king and ruler. He should be used to buying slaves. He certainly could make people into them.

Shanks stepped into the room, and a moment later, Disko was by his side, bowing in front of him.

"Your Highness, I'm very happy you're here. If you wish anyth–" he started, but was interrupted by the Yonko. Shanks' voice was neutral, but the cold edge was audible. This man was dangerous, Benn knew it instantly.

"I don't! Just get on with it."

"As you wish, Your Highness, as you wish. What kind of sla–" Disko went on, but again, he was interrupted.

"No one specific," Shanks said, and as Benn watched him, going through the rows, picking random slaves, mostly kids, but also men and women, he realized that indeed nothing of this was planned. There was no system in his choosing. The Yonko neither asked about the talents or tasks the slaves normally did, nor about the behavior of the people he chose. Instead, he looked them in the face, asked for a name and the price, before he decided to buy or not. After a while, Benn noticed Disko's prices were way too high, but Shanks had not even once declined to take a slave because of it. When he was told the price, Shanks shrugged his shoulders and nodded. He either didn't notice or didn't care that he was swindled.

When the Yonko said yes to a person, his black-haired companion paid the money, and Shanks got the ring that controlled the necklace. He let it slip into one of his pockets before he went on without saying anything. The mood was clouded by silence, which was only interrupted by questions Shanks asked and Disko answered.

It took a while until they reached Benn, but eventually they came over to where he stood. He didn't bow his head as all the other slaves had. He probably would have, if he had seen any advantage in it like staying unseen in the crowd, but he had the feeling that today not a single one of the slaves would be overlooked. Those bright eyes didn't miss a person just because they looked away.

Then they took hold of him and a shudder went down Benn's spine. He gulped, but he didn't flinch and he didn't look away. There was no use in it, and Benn realized a small hint of astonishment in the other man's face.

"What's your name?" Shanks asked, his gaze unwavering and somehow something in his tone was different than before. Benn couldn't tell what, but he suddenly felt as if he and the Yonko were alone in this room. He felt as if this question was spoken to a man on the same level as Shanks, though he knew this would never happen. But it didn't change the strange connection between them.

"His name is–" Disko wanted to answer the question, as he had all the others as well, but Shanks only lifted his hand and the man hushed, surprised.

"I didn't ask you."

The voice was sharp, but it were those eyes that irritated Benn. Shanks wasn't looking away, not a second. He held his gaze, and for the first time in a long time, Benn wanted to look away, but couldn't. As he didn't answer, the other spoke again.

"So what is it? Your name?"

"Benn," he answered slowly, trying to remember how to speak. What was wrong with him?

"Benn," Shanks repeated, as if he wanted to taste the sound of it on his tongue. Then he nodded and in the short moment he looked away, the spell was broken. A small sigh escaped Benn's lips even though he didn't know why, just to find his attention drawn back to the man again. "What's your profession?"

The question made Benn stare at the Yonko for a moment, before he laughed bitterly. It just happened and wasn't planned. Usually his selfcontrol didn't slip that easily. The moment the sound escaped his mouth, Disko took a deep breath, anger swelling in his eyes, but he was ignored and not bold enough to act in front of a Yonko.

Meanwhile, Shanks frowned, asking, "What is so funny about it?" If Benn hadn't known better, he would have thought he'd seen a little pout on the redhead's face. A man of this power didn't pout, did he?

"I'm a slave," Benn answered when his dry laugh faded and indifference was back in his expression. "A slave has no profession. A slave does what he is ordered to do."

It seemed as if Shanks wanted to say something, but he didn't open his mouth. Instead a certain kind of sadness enveloped him for a moment. It was gone when Disko interrupted them again, smiling friendly as if nothing had happened at all. His anger was hidden behind a friendly mask, but Benn knew he would be punished, if he was still in here after the Yonko left. He didn't mind, it had been worth it.

"He's a pleasure slave, Your Highness. One of the best, to be precise. Maybe a little dumb, but very willing," he praised him, but Benn could see Shanks didn't really care what the auctioneer said. He could also see that the redhead didn't believe the other man for a moment when he called Benn dumb. Shit, he would have preferred to keep his charade of being a not-good-for-anything-but-sex.

"What's his price?" Shanks asked, and Disko smiled. He saw the big money and already thought of everything he would buy of the percentage he got from it. It even lessened the fury from moments before.

"Three billion berry, Your Highness," he said, and Benn suppressed a snort. He was worth much, yes, but not that much. He knew any moment now this Yonko would shake his head and declare he couldn't afford to pay that much money for a single slave. However, Shanks surprised him.

"Fine," he said neutrally, and for the first time one of the other two men who had been with the Yonko stepped in. It was Yasopp, the one who handled the money.

"Shanks, that's too much," he declared, eyes wide at his superior's behavior and a frown on his face. The other man who Benn had overheard being called Roo nodded and actually forgot to eat for a moment. Benn had known it. There was a certain amount of money people were willing to pay and maybe the top price was set a little higher for a Yonko, but still not that high.

"Nothing is too much for the right person," Shanks answered sharply and just held his head up a little higher. Suddenly he had the air of a person who ruled. He looked like a man who rightfully was one of the most powerful in this land, even though he could hardly be older than Benn himself. "I will pay it out of my own account."

"Are you serious?" Yasopp asked, unsure how to handle the antics of his ruler, but Benn knew the other wouldn't back down now. Somehow the impending change of his ownership didn't bother him too much anymore, even though he had not wanted to serve a Yonko only hours ago. He had no idea how this man would treat him. Normally Benn could guess as much, but in this case he was just clueless. It still didn't bother him as much as it should. He would find out soon enough, that was for sure, as Shanks just held out his hand.

"My purse!" he said firmly, and Yasopp fished for a brown leather purse and handed it to the redhead. But before Shanks handed over the money, he looked at Disko. "I want the ring beforehand!"

A slight shadow of greed showed on the auctioneer's face, but then it disappeared and he was his friendly self again. However, Benn had seen it and to his astonishment Shanks had as well, because he raised his eyebrow slightly. Then Disko opened a metal ring and searched for what would allow any person to control Benn, and take his life with nothing more than a thought. A golden ring was handed to Shanks and this time the Yonko slipped it on his finger instead of putting it in his pocket. The magic it contained allowed the ring to fit perfectly, and Benn could feel how his life shifted. The necklace got warmer and burned his skin, an agonizing pain Benn had to endure with each switch. The ring had accepted his new master, and Benn had been sold again.

Shanks' eyes widened as he pushed the ring over his finger, and he stared at Benn before he stared at his necklace. It was as if Benn could see pain in those bright eyes. Pain and concern and hatred for the situation and shock, as if he saw Benn in a new light. But then it was gone, locked away behind steel walls. Again, something Benn knew all too well. This couldn't be. How could he know all those things, how could he know what the other was feeling? He didn't know that person, Yonko or not, he would not become attached to someone who owned him. He had learned that emotional bonds only led to misery. He would not allow that, though a small part in Benn was drawn to the redhead.

With a swift movement, Shanks shoved the money into the auctioneer's hand, visibly not caring that he just had paid a fortune for a slave and crossed the small distance between them. Even though Benn wanted to flinch and back away, he didn't. He wasn't allowed and he should get used to it. As a pleasure slave, privacy was nothing he could call his own.

Meanwhile, Shanks stood before him, looking into his eyes and searching for something. If Benn hadn't known better, he would have called it a search for permission, but why should a master ask his slave for his consent? That was insane. When Shanks didn't find what he was looking for, he sighed. His hands reached for Benn's neck, and Benn locked a part of himself away, making sure he wasn't thinking, wasn't feeling, wasn't really there. He just needed to function, though he never had experienced a man touching him right here in the auction house. Well, there was a first time for everything.

It nearly knocked him over when Shanks lifted the necklace without touching him. The Yonko's expression shifted from concern to a mild aggression, though so very subtle that Benn was sure none of the others was even aware of the killing intent that flooded through the Yonko's veins. He was equally surprised that the redhead took extra care in not touching his skin at all. As if he knew that each time someone claimed Benn's body, it killed him a little more.

"This normally doesn't happen," Shanks mumbled, his eyes fixed on the burned flesh underneath the necklace. Benn's neck was scarred, and he would always wear a mark, even if he could someday get rid of this thing. For his entire life as a slave, the scars had been hidden under the necklace, which was why he was praised as unmarred and whole. He knew he was the only one whose necklace burned its way through his skin, leaving a scar for each new master. He had had a lot of different masters during his life and not even a handful knew. Shanks had found out the moment he wore the ring. As if he had felt the pain himself.

"With others, no, it normally doesn't. With me, 'normal' doesn't apply," Benn answered, his voice low so only Shanks could hear him, and ringing with an edge of sarcasm. He didn't really know why, Benn just knew people normally didn't care.

Shanks, however, didn't react to his comment but whispered silent words. They were so soft-spoken Benn needed a while to realize it was a seal, the form of magic people used in this world. Seals were words, and those words carried power. When Shanks let go of the necklace, Benn prepared for the pain the metal would cause on the fresh wound, but he didn't feel anything.

The shock must have been visible on his face for a single moment before he had himself under control again. But Shanks had recognized it. The seal prevented the necklace from touching his skin and again Benn wondered why the Yonko even cared. But he did, and as Benn locked eyes with him, Shanks' gaze said everything.

"Being 'normal' is overrated anyway," Shanks whispered, before he backed away and turned. Benn knew his new master's face was as indifferent as before, even though he couldn't see it. When Shanks declared they were finished and would leave, Benn still wondered why this man was so different from all the other masters he had ever had.

* * *

Shanks turned and looked at Yasopp and Roo, who regarded him with concern. They had seen the shift in his mood, even though he was sure they could only assume half of what was really bothering him. The moment Benn had looked at him Shanks knew the man was something else. There was power and grace and kindness, but also stubbornness and hidden pain. Benn was no normal slave; he was strong enough to be king, if it weren't for the necklace around his throat.

"Get the people out of here. Make sure they are treated kindly, maybe let the women take care of the children. They surely are afraid. We will move in the morning," Shanks ordered, but his thoughts were with Benn. The rest of the procedure was routine, but Shanks had other issues to take care of. This ring around his finger gave him power he didn't want. He had to seal it and someone else had to do it, so he could never, not even accidentally, harm Benn.

The rush of power the ring had granted him the second he had slipped it on his finger still frightened Shanks. The hidden magic in this piece of jewelry ensured that a slave could never be stronger than his master. It blocked the main part of the power flow in the enslaved and led it to the one who owned. Nevertheless, the ring, as Shanks knew, only channeled as much magic as the wearer of the ring could handle. Shanks could handle plenty of magical power, but he still couldn't be sure if the ring wasn't blocking some of Benn's power for him.

"You're coming with me," Shanks said, as he turned to Benn. It hurt him physically to see a man like him enslaved. The way Benn locked all feelings away just didn't sit well with him and when he had searched for the other man's permission to touch him, Shanks realized Benn wasn't believing he had the right to demand or refuse anything because he was a slave. Shanks would make sure to change that. He would make sure Benn wouldn't be a slave any longer, but become the man he could be.

For now, though, he needed to find Doc, and he needed the doctor to tend Benn's wound. The necklace bothered Shanks. He had never heard of a necklace that burned the slave's skin. The fresh wound had looked awfully painful, and Benn's words still rang in Shanks' ears. 'Normal' wasn't applying to him… How often had the man had to endure it? What kind of necklace was it that he wore? Shanks hadn't looked at the seal yet, but he already guessed it wouldn't be a common one. Even the ring wasn't feeling like a normal one. Subtle differences, but still, they were there.

Shanks moved without showing much care whether Benn followed him. He was lost in thought, but when he reached the entrance he turned around to look at his new companion. The sight caused Shanks to slightly step back. When he had first spotted Benn, he had been impressed that the man hadn't looked away. There had been something different in his eyes, in his face and expressions. While Shanks had spoken with him, he had been fixated on the low words, the strange feeling of closeness, but now, now Shanks was able to really look at Benn and the sight took his breath away. Long, black hair like silk framed an edgy but handsome face. His eyes were gray and mysterious, his lips a natural red that people would want to kiss, and his stature was broad, strong and invited to lean against it .

It took all of Shanks' willpower to force himself to look away. He understood why people had wanted Benn in their houses, in their beds, as their slave, and the thought made Shanks incredibly sad. Benn was beautiful and all he would ever see when he looked in the mirror was a body others tried to own. Shanks would never touch him without consent. He would never kiss him, even though for just a short moment, it had been everything he'd wanted to do. But Shanks would only take what was given to him freely. He doubted Benn would ever give himself freely. There had been too much damage done to his soul.

With swift fingers, Shanks loosened the scarf he wore around his waist and slung it around Benn's neck to cover the necklace. He made sure not to touch Benn, but he could feel how the other man tensed, even though he tried to hide it, and he hid it well. Their eyes met and Shanks could see surprise in Benn and again it made Shanks sad. The man had endured so much pain that he couldn't believe in the smallest kindness.

"Let's go, I want you to see a doctor." Shanks smirked bitterly, before he led Benn outside. He somehow had the feeling that with each step his life would change now. For better or for worse, he wasn't really sure.


	2. healed

Benn followed Shanks, but his thoughts ran wild, his brain tried to catch up with the situation, but couldn't fully. The scarf around his neck was soft, the fabric a really good quality and shimmering red in the sun. It didn't match any of his clothing or his skin tone, but that didn't matter. It probably was the most expensive thing on his body now. Heck, it probably was even more expensive than Benn was himself. He refused to think about the amount of money Shanks had spent for him. No one in the world would spent three billion berry for a slave, and still the man in front of him had just done that, and even out of his own wallet.

The street was dusty, the sun warm on his skin, but not as hot as it had been when they'd had to march to the auction house. It was around six in the evening, maybe later, Benn could guess as much looking into the sky. The orange shimmer of the sinking sun danced on the white houses, and as he looked ahead again, his eyes caught on the red hair, the single strands dancing like flames. Automatically, his hand rose to touch the soft silk around his throat. He had done it a dozen times now during their silent walk past the houses of the town, and he still couldn't believe he was wearing it. Normally, it was forbidden for a slave to cover the necklace. Each person who looked at him should know what kind of person he was. If an owner found out his slave had tried to or actually had hidden the necklace, he was allowed and even encouraged to send power through his ring and either punish or kill the slave who had tried to fool the people around him. No matter how powerful or weak a person was, as long as they were the owner and in possession of the ring, simple words were enough to hurt or even kill the connected slave. It was one of the many aspects of the magic embedded in the jewelry. But Shanks had given him the scarf on his own accord, had hidden the necklace personally, so he would hardly do anything to punish Benn. Only one question remained: Why?

When Benn looked at his fingers he jerked slightly as they were glistening red. It was his own blood that had soaked through the fabric. The only thing that hindered everyone from perceiving it was the red color of the scarf. He hadn't even realized it himself, the spell Shanks had whispered preventing the necklace from touching his wound, as if a thin layer of air separated his freshly burned skin from the cold metal. Nevertheless, it was bleeding, the pain something so familiar to Benn he barely noticed it.

However, he didn't want the blood to ruin the scarf. Usually Benn wouldn't care, but something was different now. He couldn't wrap his mind around what it was, but so far Shanks had only been friendly towards him and how could he repay this kindness by ruining something which was Shanks'? Still, a part of Benn's brain shouted that he certainly would have to pay in some way if Shanks found out what he had done to the scarf even though another part knew it wasn't true. Shanks wouldn't punish him his whole course of actions spoke against it. Every other owner would, but this man with his fascinating red hair was special.

Benn started to silently whisper a healing spell, the one he always used when he switched owners and the necklace burned his skin, but before he could form the first two syllables, Shanks interrupted him.

"Please stop. We're nearly there and I want my doctor to tend the wound. I know it's bad, but self-healing always contains a risk." Although he spoke in a friendly tone, his voice was firm. He seemed to know what he was talking about. Benn just wondered how Shanks had realized he had wanted to heal it. The whispers hadn't been audible for any other ears than his own. But Shanks wasn't done speaking and again, he surprised Benn. "If it hurts too much, I can use a pain absorbing spell. I'm not great at it, but it should do the job."

For a moment, Benn was unable to answer. Shanks had stopped and turned around, so Benn had halted as well. He shook his head at the words, not really sure if this was a joke. It didn't feel like a joke. How could one of the strongest men of the known world admit so easily he was bad at something? Not to mention that a pain absorbing spell was something only fully trained doctors should be able to manage, and Benn was quite sure Shanks wasn't one. If he could manage to form one even though he was untrained, he was not bad but incredibly powerful. But why was he willing to take some of the pain Benn was feeling right now just to make him feel better? Whenever a pain absorbing spell was cast by an untrained person, the pain was only shifted from one to the other and not erased. He was a just slave, so why would Shanks care? Why would he take on pain that wasn't his?

"No Master, I'm fine. I just didn't want to ruin your scarf," Benn spoke quietly, feeling as if the words weren't his own. Why had he admitted he didn't want to ruin the scarf? It shouldn't bother him. Shanks had put it around his neck on his own. It was his fault if the scarf was ruined, not Benn's. Well, not that any other master would care whose mistake it was. Benn had been punished for other people's actions more than once, but something inside him whispered that Shanks would act differently. He would act in a way Benn was unable to foresee.

"Don't worry about it. It's just a piece of old linen, nothing of value," Shanks answered after a moment of silence that definitely felt too long for Benn. What kind of ridiculous lie was he telling? The fabric was high-quality silk and nothing less.

He gulped because he could see a certain sadness he didn't like in those bright eyes. It was a too familiar feeling, showing in eyes that resembled his own when he looked in the mirror and didn't pretend. No one had ever seen him like that, no one and still, Benn had the feeling Shanks knew.

"Let's go, the sooner you see Doc, the better!"

* * *

Somehow Benn had thought Shanks would lead him into some kind of palace, a villa or a fancy hotel. A Yonko would surely prefer something classy, luxurious, at least that was what Benn had imagined. He had been in a lot of such houses, escorting whoever his owner was at the moment, and warmed the bed for important guests, business partners or just random people that needed to be impressed. If his master owed something to someone, Benn had been loaned as payment. If his master needed to be in good graces, Benn was the bait, and sometimes he just was a present to ensure a special night.

However, the room he now waited in for Shanks to return to was nothing near as luxurious as he had anticipated. Instead, it was a little rugged, the furniture old and the bed he sat on creaked with each move he made. They had entered a tavern, muffled noises coming from the bar underneath them. Shanks had explained they would stay just for one night before making their way to his home town Manaos and to his palace. Maybe this would be closer to what Benn expected a Yonko's residence to be. He would see in a few weeks, as they still had to travel a few hundred miles to even cross the border from Kaidou's to Shanks' territory.

Benn loved the place; the tavern, the room, everything about the cozy atmosphere that surrounded him at the moment, he honestly did. There was nothing fancy about it, no forced politeness and no suspicious looks at him or his necklace. He didn't have to remember correct titles or bow in front of each person he met. This was as he imagined it would be without his chain. It just got harder and harder for him to remember that the one who owned him now was a Yonko and not just a normal… person. Though he never forgot he wasn't free.

He looked up when the door was opened and Shanks stepped in, followed by a man with long blond hair and skin a little lighter than usual in this region. Not as pale as Benn, but that was hardly possible. The blue eyes of the stranger regarded him, then he turned to Shanks and shrugged.

"I better start right away."

With those words, he made his way to his patient. Benn tried to stand up but was prevented from doing so when the other man motioned for him to stay put, so he remained sitting. Then the doctor's hand reached for the scarf around Benn's neck. He immediately tensed, not enough for anyone to notice but it was his normal reaction to people trying to touch him. He locked his feelings away so nobody would see his pain.

Nevertheless, Shanks must have sensed his unease even though Benn was sure he had managed not to let his mask slip in the slightest. He knew the doctor hadn't noticed anything, because he looked baffled when he was interrupted by his superior.

"Stop," Shanks said firmly, and the doctor turned, confused, his hand still lingering in midair.

"I didn't do–" he started, but Shanks shook his head.

"I know. It doesn't matter. Benn, would you please remove the scarf?" Shanks said softly, and Benn followed his order. The red fabric weighted heavy in his hands, as Benn realized it was as drenched in blood as his neck now had to be. He could hear the doctor inhaling sharply.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, and Shanks shot him a dark look. His lips twitched up bitterly, showing he must have told the doctor, who hadn't believed his superior.

"Can you open…" the doctor began, but Shanks just shrugged, pain dancing in his eyes. What was it he wanted to open? Not really? That was not possible, why should he remove the necklace just for a healing? The mere minute the necklace was not around Benn's neck, he could do anything without fearing for the ruby to explode. Benn knew he would never allow anyone to ever put that thing back on him again once it was off. He would fight if they should try. Freedom was something he would grab with both hands and never let go of it again.

However, his hopes rose as Shanks started to murmur something. The power of the words shifted the air and goose bumps appeared on Benns' arms. He always knew when a seal was spoken, and this one was something powerful. However, a moment later the feeling was gone and his necklace still remained where it had been for the last twenty years. The spark of hope that had started to glow in his heart was crushed. He really should have known better. He was a slave and he would remain a slave. All focused on his own pain and disappointment, Benn didn't notice the small tear running down Shanks' face.

Benn focused again when Shanks' knees gave way and the doctor caught him before he could fall to the floor. The other man's expression was even more shocked now, probably wondering what caused his ruler to just lose consciousness. Nevertheless, he held Shanks upright as best he could. Out of habit, Benn shot up, words on his lips. He knew certain spells to stabilize a person, to give back strength and stop her or him from fainting, but it would drain his own energy.

For the second time the air shifted and power filled the room. This time, there was no sudden ending of the spell and Benn's necklace began to glow slightly, the layer of air vanished as if the protective seal had simply dissolved. The hot metal burned what hadn't had time to heal. Blood streamed down Benn's neck, chest and back as he tried to ignore the pain and remain standing. He didn't want to show weakness, didn't want to show how much the burning necklace, the pain and the loss of power that had been needed for the spell to stable Shanks affected him. He wanted to lie down and pass out, but fought against it. In all this agony a small part of him wondered why the necklace was burning again. That had never happened before, even though he had used several spells in his time as a slave.

* * *

What should have been a normal spell to break a seal turned out to be absorbing most of Shanks' energy. It was the spell he always used for opening the necklaces of slaves he wanted to free. He never had experienced such a reaction before, and it took him completely by surprise. He would have stopped his words earlier if he had known what would happen, but it just struck him a moment too late. His eyes were fixed on the ring on his finger which seemed to mock him when his vision went black and his knees gave way.

The next thing he realized were soft words flowing through his mind, a soft caress beckoning him to open his eyes. They took away the blackness and the weakness he had felt moments before, as they left his system with a soft caress, like feathers caressing his skin. Shanks' eyes shot open, his stance steadying in seconds and he freed himself from his doctor, looking questioningly at the man. But Doc only shook his head, negating any action on his part, as his whole expression spoke of wonderment. He didn't know what was going on, either.

"But how…" Shanks mumbled, confused, and Doc shrugged as his eyes finally wandered to Benn. He made a shocked noise, before he rushed to the man who just stood there, eyes dancing with pain. His whole upper body was smeared with blood, skin shimmering red, because he hadn't worn a shirt since the time he had been in the auction house. Shanks had intended to give him proper clothes after Doc had seen to him, but that was the last thought on his mind right now. How could Benn just stand there, without saying anything, when it was visible on his face that he was close to fainting? Where did he take the energy from?

While Doc nearly shouted his healing spells, Shanks could only stare wide-eyed. His gaze searched for Benn's, but as he found it, it was empty. The man was too consumed by pain to notice anything else. Guilt built up inside of Shanks. His fingers darted to the ring and he turned it twice as he kept looking down at his hand. It was that little piece of metal that had blocked Shanks' spell. The ring had hindered it from working, absorbing his power to an extent it had caused him to lose consciousness. He had never heard of something like it before. How could Shanks open Benn's necklace when he as his owner wasn't allowed to?

Meanwhile, Doc softly pushed Benn onto the bed. The man had been standing all the time, mind apparently drifting to somewhere he could ignore the pain. However, he didn't resist the doctor's push, and wasn't tensing up at the touch. Perhaps he didn't even realize it. Doc had stopped the bleeding, but to fully heal the wound, he needed more time and concentration. Shanks wasn't even sure whether the doctor could operate with the metal in the way. But Doc would have to work around it since he wasn't able to remove he necklace right now. It seemed his doctor though the same as a hiss escaped his mouth and his gaze pierced into Shanks'.

"You have to help me," he said firmly, and Shanks rushed to him, nodding.

"What do I need to do?"

"Hold up that thing, somehow," Doc told him and Shanks reached for the necklace, to lift it.

However, the moment his left hand, the one he wore the ring on, touched the cold metal, a wave of dark power crashed through him. He inhaled sharply, trying to hold it back. It was hard, but Shanks managed, though the feeling left him shudder. That was black magic. It wasn't a seal that kept Benn's necklace locked, but a curse. It didn't explain what had happened before, it just made the whole situation more complex and dangerous and maybe it was the reason why a common opening spell hadn't worked.

"Shanks?"

The voice pulled him out of his state of shock, and Shanks looked at his doctor. The other man regarded him with concern, but only got a growl in reply.

"Start your fucking treatment," Shanks said, and his head turned back to Benn to catch his gaze. His expression was weary, but with relief Shanks realized he was coming back to them. The numbness in his eyes faded away and was replaced by questions. So many questions Shanks couldn't count them. He knew why, but how could he possibly tell Benn that he, as a Yonko and supposedly one of the four strongest people in the world, was too weak to open his necklace and grant him freedom. How could he tell Benn that he couldn't remove his chain, while all the other slaves Shanks had bought beside him would soon be free. No, he would not say a single word, but find a way to open this cursed necklace, too. He would find a way to finally set Benn free.

Healing Benn took longer than Shanks had anticipated. The necklace was in the way, and Doc had to concentrate very hard on the right words. Shanks knew, one false one or a mixed up sentence could require the doctor to start anew and in the worst case it would hurt Benn further. But after what felt like an eternity Doc stepped away and sank down on the floor panting. Shanks' eyes darted to the skin on Benn's neck which was still slightly red, and he noticed several scars that weren't covered by the dried blood. Some of them had to be years old while others seemed more recent. With care, Shanks placed the necklace back on the skin, covering up the evidence of all the agony that Benn had endured. Though appearing perfect from the outside, Shanks realized how broken the man in front of him really must be.

"I'm sorry," Shanks whispered only for Benn's ears to hear and the man looked up, gray eyes puzzled.

"Why?" he asked, a frown on his face, voice low, too. "You helped me."

"Yes, but it's not enough."

* * *

Shanks' words rang through Benn's mind. He was still trying to get what the other man meant with it when the doctor looked up again. He seemed to be exhausted, but Benn knew he had done good work. This wound had been something not all doctors would have been able to heal, Benn himself would have had trouble with it. He could heal himself, but only to a certain extend. The moment he had helped Shanks and the necklace had burned his skin again, his strength and capabilities would not have been enough.

Helping Shanks hadn't been something Benn had given thought to. He had just reacted, the stabilizing words on his lips before he could wrap his mind around what he was really doing there. He never assumed it would cause his necklace to react, it never had, and he had helped some of his owners before. Never because he really had wanted to, but because he had had to. This time, it had been different, his actions out of free will. But to think… No, surely his decision wasn't the reason for the heat. It would mean a plain piece of metal refused him freedom over his own mind, while already refusing him freedom over his body.

"What happened here?"

The breathless voice of the doctor made Benn focus again. His eyes darted from the blond to Shanks, but the same question was visible in the bright eyes of his new owner, so Benn assumed he had to answer, even though he didn't have a proper one.

"I don't know. Usually the burning only happens when I switch owners," Benn explained while he shrugged his shoulders. He made the whole thing appear unimportant to take a bit of the tension away. It failed because Shanks shot him a look that spoke of fury. He didn't have to raise his voice to make clear he wasn't accepting the understatement. Benn gulped, but didn't look away. Why the hell did the man care?

"That explains the scars," came the mumbled reply from the doctor still sitting on the floor. He broke the silent duel between Shanks and Benn who had their eyes locked with each other. The horror in his face shocked Benn. For the first time he realized it wasn't only Shanks who cared. "Whoever had healed you all the time did a good job, though. Even I can't prevent scars every time. I'm sorry."

The words baffled Benn, but he didn't dare to correct the man. Back then he had healed himself, something he had needed to learn out of necessity. None of his old owners had cared enough to send a doctor to look at him. The first time he had been sold, he had been sixteen. It had been the first time he was solely considered a pleasure slave, desire attracted by a body that wasn't even fully grown. It had been a painful healing. He hadn't even had a clue what he was doing back then, when a shattered mind had worked on a shattered body.

"He did it himself," Shanks said numbly and both Benn and the doctor jerked slightly, but Benn managed to hide his surprise a little better. He shouldn't wonder how the redhead knew, since Shanks had stopped him when he had tried to heal himself earlier.

"He did it… what?" Doc stuttered, and his gaze shot from Shanks to Benn and back.

For some reason, Benn wanted to laugh at the baffled man. The way he was unable to grasp the situation was hilarious. The whole situation was hilarious. What was the problem with Benn healing himself? It shouldn't be something important. After a moment, the doctor managed to pull himself back together, and his eyes pierced Shanks, but whatever answer he tried to find in the other man's face wasn't there. Slowly, he looked over to Benn, and he took a deep breath before he spoke. "Could you tell me who taught you?"

"No one," Benn answered and shrugged again. He didn't like the tension in the room. He didn't like that these people even cared so much about it that they asked. He would only start to like them if they were friendly and then he would get hurt. There was no need for that. "I had the choice to either be punished for ruining my owner's clothes or heal myself. I chose the latter option."

Did he sound arrogant? Yes, he probably did, but Benn didn't care. If they punished him for his words, he would at least know they were like everyone else. He even wished they would, just so he didn't have to wonder anymore why this redhead and his companions were so different. Why he felt so close to him. He felt like he could read Shanks like an open book. The words lay in front of him, he read them with ease, but Benn had no idea where the story would go to. He was even more clueless when Shanks spoke, anger covering his voice.

"You better never worry about clothes again."

It was an advice, but somehow it also sounded like a hidden threat, as if in case Shanks ever found those who had forced Benn to choose, the last thing these people would worry about were their clothes, but rather their lives.


	3. journey

When Shanks sent Doc to show Benn the way to his room in the tavern, he was alone with his thoughts for a moment. Absentmindedly, he turned the ring around his finger again and again, trying to understand the mystery behind it. But all he could feel was cold metal, furrowed by the usual carvings that identified an owner's ring. The subtle difference in its presence was still there, though the longer he wore it, the more he got used to it. He could have spoken a disillusion spell to find out what was hidden beneath the gold, but he was afraid. The thought of hurting Benn again made him falter, and the image of all the blood still shocked Shanks. It had been so much blood, so much…

He jerked when the door opened, but it was only Doc. He shot him a concerned look, and not all of his tension vanished with the recognition. A weary smile was on Shanks' lips as he got up from the floor to sit on the bed. Finally, his fingers let go of the ring and he ran his hand through his hair.

"He's alright?" Shanks asked, his heart beating a little too hard. Only when Doc nodded, it slowed down again. He let out a sigh of relief that got him a risen eyebrow from his doctor.

"You care for him," he said blandly and after a moment of trying and failing to deny his feelings, Shanks nodded. Yes, he did care for Benn. He didn't know him well, had just bought him from a man he detested as Shanks detested every auctioneer, and still Shanks had to admit that something drew him to Benn. He wondered what it was. He wondered if it would ever go away.

As it became apparent that Shanks didn't intend to say more about the subject, the doctor raised his voice again, expressing his concerns. Shanks had known this would come, he knew what would be said the moment the other man opened his mouth.

"He is powerful," Doc said, but Shanks just shrugged and nodded. Yes, Benn truly was and Shanks couldn't deny it. Not after Benn's spell had stabilized him earlier, and especially not after the rush of power Shanks had felt by putting the ring on his finger to accept the man as his possession. The thought made him sick. He had never wanted to own someone, he just wanted Benn to be free. But it seemed his wish wouldn't be granted. At least not yet.

"I never heard of someone who naturally managed to learn a healing spell. It took me two years to properly perform one," Doc added a little more firmly, but Shanks just nodded again.

"I know." Shanks had been there, had seen it. When Doc asked permission to become a doctor, he had arranged for him to be trained. The man had been a slave himself for five years until Shanks had freed him like he had freed the majority of his most trusted men. It had been three years ago, so Shanks had been only twenty then.

"Shanks!" It was almost a shout. For the first time, Shanks looked directly at the blond man instead of looking through him. He sighed, he couldn't explain it either.

"I'll visit Rayleigh when we're back home. Agreed?" he asked, and Doc flinched but agreed. What else could he do?

* * *

They traveled by ship from Kaidou's territory to Shanks'. It wasn't the first time Benn had seen a ship as big as the Red Force, but it was the first time he actually was aboard one. It was impressive, and the thought of traveling was exciting to him even though it was nothing new. He had changed owners more often than most of the other slaves, who had never seen anything else than the house they served in.

After about a week, they crossed the border between the two territories of the Yonkos. No one told them, but it was obvious since the mood on the ship changed noticeably. When they were still sailing on the river Albara, a side arm of the Sandora River which marked the border between Shanks' and Kaidou's territory, there had been people out on deck day and night to stand guard against a potential attack. It hadn't changed when they had reached the Sandora, as they were still not in Shanks' territory. But apparently another side arm of it – the Mano River - reached into Shanks' area, or so Benn had overheard during one of the meals. It was only when they reached it that things got calmer and less tense on the Red Force.

They had been in Shanks' territory for a day or so when Benn realized the subtle changes with interest. Laughter was heard more often and the crew, meaning the free men who were part of Shanks' escort, sung and drank. There were less people on watch, only two at a time, and Shanks joined in the fun, too. Benn had seen him dance with all sorts of people, no matter who they were or what status they held. He even took some of the slaves by the hands - men, women, children - and swirled them around laughing and cheering. It didn't even have to be evening time for the crew to celebrate. The musicians just played whenever they were in the mood and they were in the mood whenever they didn't have any duties to do.

Benn was mostly outside. He even had been on deck when they had still been in Kaido's territory. He loved to feel the wind on his face, the way it tousled his hair, and to breathe in the fresh breeze. This felt like freedom to him, however odd that was because he was anything but free. He decided that if he ever was released, he wanted to have the possibility to go and sail wherever he wanted to.

To his astonishment, Shanks was on deck a lot as well. He looked at ease when he stood at the railing, his eyes dreamy. It was strange to see the man like that. He usually was – as far as Benn could judge without much knowledge of him - loud, cheery, hyper even, but when he looked at the waves he seemed calm. Still there was a yearning in his eyes, even though it was subtle. Benn wondered what Shanks, who probably could buy anything he desired, yearned for?

The night before they moored and finally went ashore again, Shanks ordered all of the slaves into the great mass hall of the ship. No one had a real clue why they did have to gather, and anxiety spread through the people. Usually a gathering like this meant something drastic. What litte hope and happiness had grown during their journey on the Red Force began to vanish until they saw what awaited them. It was a feast, delicious dishes and drinks for all of them. They were told to forget the necklaces around their throats for a night, to just enjoy what Shanks had to offer, and he had a lot. He offered friendliness and encouragement, joy and hope, a night for happiness only and more than a few slaves really forgot that they were enslaved. Especially the children, who were contagious in their joyous way of taking everything in, reveled in the unexpected celebration as if they had never endured slavery. Benn really wanted to join them, to stop thinking about the cursed necklace for just one night. He wanted to dance and laugh and enjoy life like the kids did, without being constantly aware of the fact that this was just a farce. But he couldn't. Not when he felt Shanks' gaze on him wherever he went.

When they reached the palace, it was huge - bigger and a lot more luxurious than Benn had expected after seeing the tavern they had stayed in the first night. The outer walls glimmered golden and red in the sunlight. They were built of a certain stone from the Redline, a mountain chain that separated one half of the common land from the other. There were some palm trees covering the entrance, but most of the front was shimmering stone. It looked luxurious, yet somewhat cold, but people murmured wonderful gardens could be found at the backside of the building.

The group was led through several hallways and with relief Benn noticed that the interior didn't match the front of the palace at all. What he had seen by now reminded him of the welcoming, cozy feeling of the old tavern they had slept in the first night. The walls were decorated in tapestries that looked classy but a little rugged, the furniture was made out of old polished wood, and when Benn saw some dust bunnies in the corners, he couldn't stop himself from grinning. This was nothing like the noble houses he had been in before, and some of the tension he had felt earlier vanished.

When they entered a huge hall with a raised pedestal in it, the dreadful feeling came back at once. All the other people around him tensed as well, looking around or just staring into nothingness. Shanks and his men would probably tell them now what they had been bought for, and since all of them - children, women and men - were placed in one room, it couldn't be something good. But after the feast on the Red Force no one knew exactly what to expect. Back then they had thought something bad would happen too, and in the end, they had gotten a celebration exclusively for them.

It didn't take long before Shanks appeared on the little stage and Benn stepped into a shadowy corner. He didn't know why, but he still felt different from the others. He was the only one the Yonko had bought out of his own purse. Now Benn was aware of it more than ever.

However, when Shanks smiled the tension vanished and the mood of the crowd seemed to become lighter. It was like he enveloped all of the people inside the room with it, and when he started to speak, his soft voice carried into every corner.

"I know you are afraid and I know you wonder why you're here. You are slaves, some of you have been slaves all their lives. This will change now." Benn could hear the whole group gasp in surprise, but somehow he himself didn't feel addressed by those words. They only made him sad. "From this day on you aren't slaves anymore. I never wanted to own slaves and I will never allow slavery in my land. From this day on, you're free."

The moment Shanks spoke the last words a clattering sound rang through the whole room. All the necklaces had dropped and suddenly cheers, tears and shouts of praise filled the air - it was a happy moment indeed. No one took notice of Benn as he pressed himself further into the corner, tears rolling across his face silently. His hands gripped at his necklace, yanking at it, but it stayed where it was. He still was a slave and he had never felt lonelier in his life.

After most of the noise subsided, Shanks explained they were now free to choose whether they wanted to stay in the palace and work for him, or leave and try to find their luck elsewhere. He then stepped from the stage, leaving the rest of the work to Yasopp, Roo and some other men Benn didn't know the name of, Benn only registered half of it. By now, he sat on the floor, his tears dried and mind somewhere where no one could follow. He had never hated being a slave more than now that everyone else around him was free.

"I'm sorry. Come on, you need to get out of here," a gentle voice told him, and Benn blindly reached towards it. A hand gripped his, warm fingers entangled with his, but it was the feeling of a cold metal ring that made him look up eventually. Shanks led him, red hair swaying with the rhythm of his silent steps. He didn't turn around until they had left the hall. When they stopped, the Yonko finally faced him, looking sad and sorry. Benn wanted to believe the regret he saw on Shanks' face was genuine, but how could he when it was clear that Benn would remain a prisoner while everyone else had been released?

It seemed Shanks wanted to say something, he opened his mouth twice, but no words left his lips. In the end, he just remained silent as Benn's expression switched to indifferent again. He had shown his pain and he wouldn't allow that to happen again. This man could own his body, but not his soul. Never, not if Benn could prevent it. There was enough damage done already.

Eventually they started moving again. This time Shanks let go of his hand, but Benn followed either way. Running away would probably cost his life and Benn wasn't ready for that step yet. He needed an answer first. An answer to whether freedom was worth more than your life.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, they reached a door made from simple darkish wood and Shanks opened it, but didn't make any move to go inside. Instead, he spoke for the first time since they had left the hall.

"This is your room here in the palace. No one else is allowed inside, not even me. If you need something, just ask… My room's next to yours. There's a connecting door between the two rooms, though I will not use it. I promise," Shanks said in a low voice, a hint of sorrow still audible in it. He bit his lip and Benn wondered if he meant what he said. That he wouldn't come inside. Well, he would see.

Silence wavered between them and Benn intended to go inside before it could grow too large. He guessed that Shanks was done for now and he was dismissed. However, the Yonko's next words stopped him although they were merely a whisper.

"I'm sorry about this. I know you don't believe me, but you were included when I said all of you are free. You're not a slave anymore, Benn. I don't see you as one."

Benn just wanted to walk on, close that door and be alone. Instead, he turned, without looking at the man in front of him. He was staring right through him when he answered. Feelings locked away, deep down in his soul where no one could reach and shatter them.

"I'll always be a slave."

Then he finally turned and shut Shanks out. Benn didn't pay attention to the interior of his room, nor did he see the freshly washed set of nightwear laying on a chair. Everything was prepared to make him feel welcome but the numbness in him kept him from noticing. He just slipped underneath the sheets of the bed and forced himself to sleep. But the pained look on Shanks' face when he had spoken haunted him, even in his dreams.

* * *

Shanks stared at the closed door, not really realizing he was shivering. The feeling of being the biggest asshole in the world overwhelmed him and weighted heavy on his heart. He had made Benn endure witnessing the release of all the other former slaves, while his necklace remained around his throat. Shanks had hoped it just would fall off as well when he had woven the spell into his speech. He hadn't excluded Benn, but still it hadn't worked. The silent tears, the pain-stricken face, Shanks knew he would not be able to forget those images.

After a while Shanks moved and made his way back to the hall. It was barely evening and there was work to do. He had to help with showing his new employees around, had to make sure those people would get what they needed to settle in. More than half of the now former slaves had chosen to seek their luck elsewhere. Even though Shanks had freed them, they weren't willing to report to him as their superior at work after all. The Yonko understood the choice and bestowed a generous amount of money on each of them to find a new home and start a life as a free man. What happened to them from now on wasn't in his hands anymore.

Those who chose to stay with and work for Shanks would be granted a room and monthly wages. They would be interviewed about what they liked to do and were good at, and based on their answers a suitable position in the palace would be found for them. Also they would be served three meals a day and could rent themselves a flat somewhere in the city if they preferred.

Most of the workers in Shanks' castle were former slaves. Even his most trusted men were, except for Yasopp whose father had died early and left his son to beg on the streets. He had been taken in by an old blacksmith and continued to run the business when his foster father died years later. It had gone well until a trickster had cheated him on some important investments. All of his money had been lost and he had had no idea what to do. Fate had brought the two of them together. Shanks had needed a blacksmith to repair his sword and he had heard Yasopp was the best in town. It had been shortly after Shanks had become Yonko and he hadn't been sure how to act in such a situation, so he made a deal with Yasopp. He would help him find and sue the trickster who had bankrupted him, and in return the man would become his personal armorer. In the end, it also got each of them a new friend.

The hall where everyone had gathered earlier was now fairly empty. The people who had chosen to leave had already been led to a place where they could sleep. They hadn't had to move right away when the sun was already sinking but could sleep another night in the palace before they would go on to find their own way. The remaining people, many of whom were women and children, talked with several of Shanks' men in the hall. His men were to find out what kind of duties the former slaves had had to do before, to get an idea of what task to assign them to. Shanks didn't want to give them just any jobs but something that matched the skills of each person. Not only because it would help them to settle in his castle, but also because people usually were more efficient and content when they did something they enjoyed. No one had to do what they had been doing as slaves if they didn't want to. Plus, the children would be sent to a school Shanks had set up especially for former slaves.

Shanks' gaze wandered until he found Roo who was talking with what looked like a small family. The man was holding the hand of the woman next to him while a small girl, maybe five years old, nearly dozed off. She had a cute little face, brown eyes and hair. They all seemed exhausted, but the smiles on their faces were genuine.

Shanks remembered them to be a married couple who had the luck to be still together. He hadn't had the heart to separate the little family so he had just bought all three. He was somewhat glad they had chosen to stay with him. It would have been hard for them out there all by themselves without any support.

"I used to be a history teacher, but I'm used to doing other task as well. I can work hard, carry heavy things, maybe work as a builder. Just please don't make my wife work at building sites..." Shanks overheard the man telling Roo rather desperately until he recognized him and bowed down, as did his wife. "Your Highness..."

A sigh escaped Shanks' lips at the formality and he waved for them to straighten again immediately. "That's not necessary," he told them firmly. Most of the people Shanks freed assumed their work wouldn't differ much from what they had had to do as slaves, but that was not why he bought and freed them in the first place. Sometimes, it was hard to even find out what they were good at because they were afraid to speak. His gaze caught the curious look of the girl. Her eyes were fixed on his hair. It still amused him how interested some kids were in the color of his strands. Kneeling down, Shanks smiled at the girl and when she realized Shanks wasn't really scary, she crossed the small distance and plucked at his hair.

"You look funny."

"Rika, stop. I apologize, Goddess, Rika, stop…" the woman cried out, desperate to stop her daughter, but Shanks just laughed and lifted the girl into his arms, not caring that she pulled at his hair.

Instead, he encouraged her a little, pouting in a playful manner. "That is a mean thing to say, not all people can have such fabulous hair as yours."

The girl giggled, taking one of her own strands to hold it next to Shanks'. Glee sparkled in her eyes. "Mommy look, my hair is fabo... fobu... fabulous," she stated matter-of-factly even though she had problems pronouncing the difficult word correctly. Shanks chuckled when he saw the woman blush in a bright red.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," she mumbled again, but Shanks brushed it off.

"It's fine. I love children and I am glad you could stay together as a family." His gaze wandered from the woman to the man, who looked a little dumbfounded and shocked. But the expression faded under Shanks encouraging smile. "There are a lot of children under my care, now even more, and I want to make sure all of them get a good education. There is no need for you or your wife to work on any building sites. You can teach at my school, where your girl is very welcome as well."

For a moment, both of the parents stood in stunned silence, before the man indicated a little bow. His whole stance spoke of honest gratitude. "Thank you so much."

"Do I have to sit in Papa's class then, as well?" Rika asked, still on Shanks' arm, and for a moment everyone just looked at the girl. Then Shanks burst into laughter and the rest joined in after a second. This girl was an enrichment for the palace, through and through.

"Yes sweetie, I think you'll have to," Shanks managed to say after the chuckling and laughing had subsided. These were the moments that made it worth going through the hassle of buying slaves. It was worth it, it always was.

* * *

After another three hours every last former slave had been cared for, and Shanks sank onto the floor, sighing. He was soon joined by Doc, Yasopp and Roo, the latter handing him a bottle of sake. He took it with a grateful smile, but didn't drink.

"What's wrong?", Yasopp asked noting that odd behavior. Usually, Shanks never hesitated to open a bottle of alcohol after such a busy day. Not when everything was alright. So it was obvious that something wasn't. But Shanks didn't answer right away, trying to form the right words in his mind. He was still thinking when Doc spoke.

"It is because of that Benn, am I right?" he asked and Shanks just sighed again before he nodded. Right, Doc had witnessed that strange magic of the necklace. He knew.

"It again didn't work. I've never seen a lonelier, more disappointed man." Shanks looked up, pain shimmering in his eyes. "He cried, but what was even worse was the indifference that came afterwards. It's like a wall, making sure no one can hurt him. I can only guess what has happened to him and that is enough to break a person. He will never be able to believe he's free until that necklace has come off."

While Shanks had been talking, Roo and Yasopp had looked equally irritated, until that last statement. When they realized what must have happened, their expressions were shocked. It was the first time they heard of Shanks' power failing.

"How can that be?" Roo asked after the silence became too loud. Shanks, though, only shrugged. He wasn't sure himself. He just knew someone must really have hated Benn to curse his necklace like that.

"I don't know… but I'll find out. I'll definitely find out."

With these words, he pushed himself upright and headed for his room. He had to contact Rayleigh. His bottle was left behind, still closed. Concern spread over the faces of the ones who remained sitting as they watched the redhead walk away. They all knew being such a young Yonko was a burden, but somehow they had the feeling the burden had been increased markedly in the last few hours.


	4. talk

The sun was slowly rising in the east when Benn woke up. He was confused at first, not really sure where he was and what had happened, but then all the memories flashed back to him. The clatter of metal hitting the floor, the warm hand that pulled him away and those sad eyes when Shanks told him he didn't see him as a slave. As much as he wanted to believe in those words, the necklace around his throat reminded him of what he truly was and always would be.

In an attempt of self-pity, Benn considered to just pull the blanket over his head and try to shut the world out. But that wouldn't help his situation and it wasn't like him to act like a teenager. Instead, he rose to his feet and looked around. He still wore yesterday's cloths, rumpled and creased. He sighed and pulled the dirty, white linen shirt over his head. He wore it for two days. In the tavern room in which he had been sleeping for the first night, after he had seen the doctor, he had found these cloths on the bed, ready for him. It wasn't much, just some shirts and two trousers, but at least it was something to wear. After a while he had found out that Shanks had provided all of the slaves with new clothes. Benn gulped. They were now former slaves, except of him.

He threw the shirt onto the bed and ran a hand through his black hair. It hung loosely around his face and he wondered if he would be able to find something to hold it back. His former master had liked it better when it hung open, but it always was in the way. He wondered if Shanks would care. He would certainly find out.

It wasn't really bright in the room, as he hadn't lit any candles or lights. Instead, the orange shimmer of the rising sun lit up the furniture in a soft glow, and Benn spotted a nightstand next to his bed. There was also a huge wardrobe he didn't find much sense in, as he would never own enough clothes to fill it – unless his new master liked to dress him up, but Benn doubted Shanks wanted to use him as a doll.

Then there was the door he had come in yesterday, and on the right was another one that had to be the connection to Shanks' quarters, as the wood of the double wing doors was a shimmering mahogany and contained several filigree carvings. With surprise he also spotted a third door a little next to the wardrobe, and when he opened it, he found himself standing in a little bathroom. Over the sink were the toiletries he needed. Toothpaste and a toothbrush, a comb, as well as some soap. There were also white towels laying ready on the closed lid of the toilet. Deciding it couldn't hurt, he brushed his teeth but avoiding to look in the mirror. No need to face himself, yet.

The last thing he saw when he entered his room again, was a desk. It looked rather empty, only some stationery was placed on it. A few pens, a notepad and, much to his surprise, also a neatly folded package of clothes. He hadn't noticed anyone coming in during the night, but it seemed like someone had brought him something to wear. Or the package had been in here before he had entered the room. But how could they have known Shanks would host him here? The few clothes he had possessed on board of the Red Force and during his travels were in a bag, which he had forgotten in the big hall. Not that he cared, it hadn't contained anything of worth anyway. Only on second thought he realized that Shanks had broken the promise of no one entering without Benn's permission. Somehow, he doubted the clothes had been in here yesterday night. Benn sighed, suppressing the feeling of disappointment. Why had he given it any consideration anyway?

He reached for the clothes when he saw a small note on top of it. Blinking in irritation, Benn opted for reading it first and unfolded it. His eyes darted over the curved handwriting and despite all the circumstances, he could only shake his head. This man was insane.

 _I wasn't in your room. I promise. I used a place-changing-spell. I hope I hit the desk. My aim never was good.  
Use the scarf.  
Shanks_

Automatically, his eyes scanned the clothes, and it didn't take him long to spot the red of the scarf he had worn on the day Shanks had bought him. Reaching for it, he pulled it out from between the rest of the fabric and just held it in his hand. It was as soft as he remembered, and freshly washed. Regarding it closer, he scanned it for any signs of the blood that had soaked it the last time he had held the fabric in his hands, and realized it was as new. There was not even a single stain on it. Gulping, Benn sat back on his bed, trying to process what this meant.

He had feared the glances of the rest of the people. It shouldn't have bothered him, but the thought of all the pity he would probably get from the others who had been slaves but weren't anymore, had made him uneasy. Benn didn't need sympathy, he knew he was an outcast, even under outcasts. Coping with it was not the problem, yet he knew it would wear him out. He was only human after all, even though people tended to forget that when seeing the necklace around a neck.

The fabric felt cold and silky under his fingers, and Benn wondered why Shanks went through so much trouble. He couldn't deny he was relieved that the man hadn't been into his room. He just didn't know why. When he looked through the clothes, he realized it was more than just one set, and he also noticed a set of nightwear on the chair. This had probably been in here before he had entered the room, ready for him to sleep in it after the long journey. Well, he just hadn't seen it at all.

In the end, he slipped into what seemed like the most unremarkable set of clothes - black trousers and a dark blue shirt. As all of the cloths in these warm regions, the fabric was light and airy. To his surprise, it also was long enough. He was extremely tall, even for a man. With slight confusion on his face, he regarded the rest of the clothes and then shrugged. As he placed them neatly in the wardrobe, Benn couldn't help but think that they really looked lost in there, in all that empty space.

There was also a mirror on the inside of the door of the wardrobe, and with a growl, Benn couldn't delay to take a look at his face anymore. Gray, tired eyes looked back at him, the black rings underneath standing out on pale clear skin. He never slept much, but yesterday evening had taken its toll on him. Whispered words, a simple spell he had learned years ago, covered all evidence of the lack of sleep. This way he could make himself look fresh and as if he had had the perfect night's sleep. It was just what his masters had wanted from him, even though he almost never felt like it. No spell could grant you energy just like that. He either had to sleep or claim the energy from someone else who would suffer from the loss. Both wasn't possible here, all he could do was illusion. He checked his face again, the dark rings under his eyes were gone. Then he slung the scarf around his neck, made sure his necklace wasn't visible anymore and headed for the door.

No one had told him what to do, but he assumed Shanks couldn't be much different than most of his former owners, who usually just wanted one thing in the morning and that was breakfast. Benn would see if breakfast included him as well or not.

Outside of his room, Benn looked from left to right, not sure where to go. He had a good sense of direction, but he hadn't really paid much attention to where Shanks had dragged him yesterday. Not that it would have helped much, as he had no idea where the kitchen was. Maybe someone would cross his path and he could ask?

Before he could reach a decision though, a man rounded the corner and stopped, looking stunned. Then he grinned and yelled over at Benn, sounding more enthusiastic than it was legal for a man at this early hour. It was Roo, the other companion who had been with Shanks on the day in the auction house, and he grinned like he had had the best sleep in ages.

"You're up early. Good morning!"

Benn blinked, irritated, before his senses kicked in and he stepped back slightly. Bowing his head, he wondered if the man knew about the necklace underneath the scarf or not. Any other person would probably assume he had been freed as all the other slaves, but this man definitely was a closer companion to his master than the other people he had seen on the Red Force. Shanks could have told him.

Meanwhile, the big man closed the distance, faster than Benn had thought he would be able to. Roo seemed like an easy-going man as far as Benn could say without knowing him well. They had traveled together, but nonetheless, the slaves had always kept their distance from Shanks' men, out of given reasons.

"Good morning," he mumbled as a reply, his tone even and friendly. His gaze was locked on the floor, so as not to draw any attention. However, he jerked when Roo spoke with firm, but soft words.

"You can look at me," he said and Benn did as he was told, just because refusal was nothing to consider. A shadow of sadness rushed over the man's face, but maybe it was just Benn's imagination, because it was gone quickly. What remained was an encouraging smile. "Where did you want to go?"

"The kitchen," Benn answered honestly, and Roo nodded, waving his hand to indicate Benn to follow him. He just started walking while he talked.

"Good, that's where I'm heading at the moment. You must be hungry, you haven't eaten anything yesterday evening, am I right? I'll make you some breakfast, before I start working."

The words caused Benn to look up in bafflement, and he had to concentrate on his feet not to stumble. He had looked away politely again, although he couldn't force himself to do so now. Someone else wanted to make breakfast for him? That had to be a joke. A joke he didn't find funny in the slightest.

"I can make my own breakfast, after I served His Highness," he declared in a reserved tone, but to his astonishment Roo turned, frowning. He even stopped walking, and Benn nearly bumped into the man. He wanted to apologize, but was beat by his company.

"Listen, Shanks can totally serve himself, and he wouldn't allow it anyway. Not to mention he isn't here anymore, but went to visit someone. Also, when I want to make you breakfast, I will do just that. It's my kitchen and before someone messes with it, it's over my dead body. Understood?"

Benn was so taken aback by those words he could only nod. It seemed enough for the other man, and for a while they walked in silence. It was good for remembering the way, though curiosity got the better of him and he just had to ask. "You're a cook?"

The question earned Benn a chuckle, before Roo answered. "Surprised?"

To be honest, Benn was, and he shrugged, so as not to show it too much. "I hadn't thought of His Highn..." he started, but was interrupted by Roo.

"Shanks!"

So Benn cut off the word and continued, even though it sounded strange to call his owner by his name so casually. "…Shanks would have his cook as one of his closest… ministers," Benn ended, though he wasn't sure if he had phrased it right. He wasn't sure if Roo was a minister or not, but he assumed he was, as he had accompanied His Highness to the auction house. He was close to Shanks, so he would surely have a high position in this court. Any other thing would just be strange.

"I'm no minister. I'm a cook. Simple as that. Just happened that I'm friends with a Yonko as well. You'll understand after a while," Roo said as he opened a door which led into what seemed like a big dining hall. There were five rows of tables filling the room. How many people ate here? "Sit down. I'll make you something. Coffee or tea?"

Benn could just stare and follow the words. This hall was huge, larger than some grand dancing halls he had seen. "Coffee," he mumbled as he looked at Roo's back, who vanished through a door into what must be the actual kitchen. Were there any other rooms as big as this one in here? Was someone like Shanks even having a dancing hall? The man had danced on the Red Force, though it hadn't been any official standard dances. A Yonko had to know the current etiquette, right? Benn would need time to process everything that happened here, that much he was sure of. Especially when he realized he had just for a moment forgotten he was a slave.

After a while in which Benn tried to sort his thoughts, Roo returned with a tray in his hands. It was loaded with a mug filled with coffee, and two small containers filled with milk and sugar, both things Benn didn't need and usually also didn't get. Then there was pita bread, different kinds of cheese and ham, as well as scrambled eggs. He also spotted what looked like some kind of berry jam. The last time Benn had had jam was… He wasn't sure, it had to have been years ago. The astonishment must have been visible in his face, because Roo frowned.

"Anything you don't like?" he asked, but Benn just shook his head no, as the chef placed the breakfast in front of him. This was what he usually served his masters, he had never had such a plentiful meal in his life, ever.

"Well then, enjoy your meal," Roo added up, when Benn remained staring, not sure if he was allowed to touch any of this. Still swamped by the choices he took the coffee and took a sip. The moment he tasted the liquid his eyes widened. This was one of the best brewed coffee's he ever had. How could this all be for him? He was a slave, people usually didn't care for him. Somehow it seemed to dawn upon Roo what was bothering Benn, because a sad hint played in his eyes, as he leaned back in his stool.

"You never had something like it before," he said, and it wasn't a question.

Benn just shook his head, readying himself for the pity that would come. His lips became a thin line. He had survived till this day, he didn't need false sympathy from people who didn't understand what it meant to be enslaved.

But Roo just smiled and stole a slice of ham from the plate. "Well, there is always a first. Eat, and when you're done you can help me in the kitchen. There are around a hundred other people who wanna have some breakfast as well. They aren't as frugal as you."

"You always cook for all of them alone?" Benn asked disbelieving, to both the answer and the way Roo had acted towards him. A hundred different people, and they would all eat here, probably getting a meal like he just got. The amount of time, effort, gosh even the amount of money that breakfast alone must cost the court every day was huge. Why did they do this? How did they do this? None of the questions came out of Benn's mouth, even though they burned on his tongue. But Roo just chuckled at the sight of him or probably at his question, while he considered his statement.

"No way, but my assistant's ill and the rest of the cooks will not come in before lunchtime," he explained and as the cook went on chatting, Benn finally started to eat, all the while eager to learn more.

* * *

Shanks had tried to reach Rayleigh when he had finished all his work and was sure each of his new employees was cared for. However, all he got when their minds connected through the spell he used was a closed door. He wasn't allowed inside Ray's head and when the old man didn't want to speak to him, Shanks had no way to force him. Very few people could shut him out, but his old teacher was one of them.

A communication spell was actually really simple, it was nothing close to mind-reading, which didn't exist. A lot of people who barely even managed seals and spells, where able to use it. The thing was, as far as both parties agreed on the communication, it was like hearing the other in one's head. The words just didn't need air to travel, the magic itself carried them from place to place, when allowed by both users. What needed more concentration and power was forcing the other person to permit the access into the head. It was like a constant knocking on a door. After a while it became so obtrusive and annoying most people just allowed the entry into their mind. Usually Shanks was really good at being annoying, but Rayleigh could manage to bang the door into his face and close it in such a way, that he didn't have the strength to go on being annoying.

After a while though, when Shanks had nearly dozed off because the day had exhausted him, there was a gentle knock at the barriers of his mind and with a sigh he let Ray in. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the connection. It was always easier to just focus on the voice without seeing his surroundings. He could imagine Rayleigh was somewhere in the room, speaking with him face to face, and not being miles away.

"You really pick the worst times to call." The familiar voice sounded through his head, and the wish to smack his old teacher rose in no time. Worst times? It had been late evening, what the hell was he doing at that time that was so important, anyway? Than it hit Shanks and he growled, not sure if he should be annoyed or just embarrassed about it. He had no vigor left to deal with something like it.

"Just because you pick the worst times to bang Shakky doesn't mean it's my fault!" Shanks replied sassyly and tried to get the pictures out of his head. It wasn't working at all. He really needed to sleep after that conversation.

"I don't apologize to have sex with my wife, oh Lord Highness."

Shanks growled at the title. Ray should be glad he wasn't around for him to smack him. Not that he would ever manage to hit him, as Ray was a lot faster than Shanks ever would be, but he could try.

"Stop that," Shanks pouted and he could hear the laugh in his head.

"You never grow up, do you?"

Shanks could imagine the look on his old teacher's face, and he even waved his hand, as if he wanted to shoo away a fly. The image didn't vanish, though. Sometimes Shanks hated that man for his cockiness.

"No, I don't. Not my fault you made me accept that position, so live with it," he said and then added, finally coming to the point, "I need to see you."

"When?" Ray didn't beat around the bush. He probably heard the concern in his voice. Shanks knew it seeped through. There was no need to hide it, as he intended to tell Rayleigh the whole story when they met. He trusted him alone to seal the ring, as the man was the only person alive that had enough power to block Shanks' own magic, which was indeed powerful.

"Tomorrow. The earlier the better." Shanks hoped the man was at home, but since he had just been with Shakky, the possibility was high he was, even though sometimes he could vanish for more than a month. No one knew where he went then, not even his own wife.

"Meet me at ten at Shakky's place. I'm there."

Shanks counted in his head. Meeting Ray at ten meant he had to stand up at least at five. Shakky's bar was located at a town called Sabaody, which lay at the border of Shanks' territory and was a neutral area. None of the Yonkos had managed to claim it, as it was one of the fixing points that separated their' areas. After endless battles and the intervention of even the Government itself, it was declared neutral territory. Shanks shrugged. Six hours of sleep would have to be enough.

"Fine, see you at ten in the morning," Shanks replied and shut off the connection, but heard the reverberation of Ray's last few words.

"Wait! Morning? Are you serious..."

* * *

Shanks had decided to quit breakfast in favor of a few more minutes of sleep. He would need the energy for the ride, sitting on a horse for almost four hours was exhausting but he also didn't want to force Roo out of bed so early. The man would have gotten up for him for sure, but Shanks had convinced him to stay put and make sure everything was alright while he was gone. There was no need for him to stay longer than a day, but with Shakky and Ray, Shanks never knew. He had told everyone else he would be back the other day.

Somewhere along the way, Shanks had stopped for a short break and something to eat, but the sun had prompted him to better move on. It was up high in the sky now and Shanks didn't want to lose time or stay out in the heat longer than necessary. Now his chestnut walked through the dusty streets of the familiar town he visited way too often for his liking. Not that he didn't like Rayleigh, but nearly every time he visited the old man it was because something was not going well in his kingdom.

Pushing his hood deeper over his hair, he made sure no one would recognize him at first sight. His red hair gave away his identity easily, and he didn't need the commotion. After a while the houses became more rugged, the area more filthy. Shakky wasn't living in the noble quarter after all. Then he spotted the sign of her bar and a grin stretched across Shanks' face. 'Rip-off Bar'. Whenever he read that he just couldn't deny that he liked the woman.

Before he was properly off his horse, the door opened with a loud bang and an angry looking Rayleigh stepped out. As soon as he spotted Shanks, the anger made way for worry though, and he reached for the snaffle to lead the animal away, as soon as its rider was back on his feet. Shanks just shook his head and said nothing. There was no need, and he didn't have the energy to do so. He wasn't here to search for a fight. While Rayleigh led the horse to a small stable behind the bar, his eyes followed his former teacher. The silver hair sparkled in the sun. It made Shanks really worried that he hadn't even been greeted.

"You know, you're one of the very few people who can make him act like this at all." The soft voice managed to make Shanks turn again, and he smiled when he saw the woman. In her hand was a cigarette, as always, but she stumped it out. It was all the invitation Shanks needed to close the distance and give her a hug.

"Hello Shakky," he mumbled and buried his head in the crook of her neck. He needed this, after all that happened, and the woman was what came closest to his mother.

"Good to see you, Shanks," she replied softly. It was something unusual, as she was normally very tough. A force nothing could break, and a lot of people would love to own. No one had ever managed. Not even Ray, but he also had never tried.

When they parted again, Shanks felt a little better, even though he was still exhausted and tired. Stepping away from Shakky, he turned to see whether Rayleigh was coming back. He wouldn't have needed to, though, because the man just made his way over to him. His horse seemed to be properly taken care of, as there wasn't much noise other than a low neigh coming from afar – probably Shakky's horse greeting his chestnut. Shanks knew Shakky kept a horse herself, since it was the smartest means of transport in these regions.

"Ray-", Shanks started but before he could say anything more, he felt his former teacher's fist on his head, hitting him hard. He let out an "ouch" and wanted to protest, but was shut off by another embrace. This one felt different. It was more secure, a pleasant reminder that the old man cared for him still, after all those years.

"Idiot," Ray mumbled, just a quick outburst of his feelings before he let go. Somehow Shanks could only smile at it.

They moved inside, and Shakky even locked the door although there would hardly be any guest coming this early in the morning. Then she excused herself to fetch them something to eat and some coffee. It seemed that the two of them had just gotten up and not eaten a proper breakfast yet. Rayleigh sat down on the couch, while Shanks remained standing. After sitting on a horse for such a long time, it was good to feel solid ground under his feet again and stretch his sore legs.

"Are you telling me now why you come here at ten in the morning, when you have to ride at least four hours to get here? I meant the evening Shanks, I was worried as fuck. How many hours did you sleep? Four? Five?" Ray asked, his voice trembling slightly. He tried to hide it, rather sounding angry than worried, but Shanks could hear the concern. A sigh escaped his lips and he gave in to exhaustion, finally sitting down on a chair across from the older man.

"Six ... and that is why." Shanks lifted his hand to show the ring. The shock on Rayleigh's face was nothing Shanks hadn't expected and still he felt the lump in his throat. He had never felt so guilty before now, looking the man he had known for almost all his life into the eye and telling him he was in the possession of something they both detested. The way he regarded Shanks was piercing, as if he searched for an answer by merely trailing down his features. Suddenly, all Shanks wanted to do was cry.

"That is an owner's ring," Ray simply stated, and Shanks could only nod. He lacked the proper words and the hand fell back into his lap again. "Why are you wearing an owner's ring?"

Fiddling with the ring, Shanks slipped it off his finger and looked at it. He never had feared a simple piece of metal like this before. His gaze wandered back to Ray and he shrugged to hide the distress he felt. "Can you please seal it first?" he asked and stood up to give the ring to the other man. He could have just slid it over the table, but he didn't dare to. Benn's tears and pained face when the necklace hadn't opened while all the others did, hindered him from doing so. He would never risk hurting the man again, even if it was just by not taking care of the ring. He had been hurt enough.

Shanks carefully placed the ring into the open hand and sat back. Ray closed his fist around it. Suddenly his eyes widened and Shanks knew he had felt the power rush through him, though it could only be half as worse as the time the ring had accepted himself as Benn's new owner. Never letting his eyes trail off Ray's stance, Shanks watched him lean back while running his free hand through his hair. It seemed like he finally understood.

"This is black magic," Ray stated, and even though it wasn't a question Shanks nodded. "And you couldn't open the necklace." Again, no question but a statement. "I guess you want me to seal it, so you can't use the ring?" Shanks nodded again, just to jerk when Rayleigh sighed and shook his head absentmindedly. "I can't."

His feet hit the floor and he was standing straight, before Shanks realized what he was doing. His expression had shifted into shock and anger, and he made no effort to hide his feelings from his former teacher. With gritted teeth and hands balled to fists he was on the edge, fully aware he was only a spark away from exploding.

"Don't fucking kid with me," Shanks pressed out, voice strained and quiet in an attempt to not shout at Rayleigh. Luckily the other man knew his former protege quite too well to be offended by the actions. It probably would have caused the bar to fall apart, with two powers far beyond what a normal person could imagine.

"Shanks, sit down!" The voice was calm but firm, though it was the look in Ray's eyes that made Shanks really follow the order, because it was nothing other than that. He would always remember that look, those fierce but also calm eyes, which gave away only a spark of the power that lay deep within. It made it clear Shanks had really fucked up this time and that he better listened closely, because if not, he could count himself really lucky to stay alive and in one piece.

So he sat, slowly and each move controlled, while his eyes never left Ray's gaze. The other lowered his head only after Shanks' back hit the back of the chair, and the tension vanished. Shanks let out an uncontrolled sigh, his hand running through his red strands. He was exhausted and he was afraid. Afraid that he couldn't handle the black magic, that he would never find a way to open that damn necklace and mostly he feared to hurt Benn. A thought that felt like a sharp slash through his heart, even though he didn't really know this fascinating man with the sad eyes, yet.

"Whoever wears the matching necklace to this ring must have really gotten under your skin," slipped out of Ray's mouth but Shanks just flinched and grimaced at the words. The other one had no idea. "Oh fine, I don't ask."

The added words managed to draw another sigh from Shanks and he popped his feet up on the coffee table and cross-legged them. It was hard not to just grip something and throw it at Rayleigh's head. But honestly, he was glad the anger had been drained. It wouldn't have ended well, and Shakky would have been really mad at them for ruining her bar.

"He's powerful," Shanks said after a moment of silence and Rayleigh looked up, tilting his head just to regard him a little closer. Then he picked up the ring which was still in his hand, to hold it between thumb and index finger. It shimmered golden in the light.

"I doubt you mean the ring," Ray mumbled and Shanks suppressed a huff. Well, the ring was powerful, too, but the other man had been right with his assumption that Shanks indeed didn't mean it. "Oh gosh, Shanks, don't give me that look and rather tell me about this man."

"I didn't give you any look," Shanks replied, crossing his arms now . Maybe he was even pouting a little, because he hadn't given any look. He had just stared at Ray, because the old geezer was more interested in his relationships than in actually doing what Shanks had come for. Not to mention that his love-life wasn't any of Rayleigh's concerns … and he shouldn't think about Benn in this terms. "How do you know it's a man?"

A chuckle next to him caught his attention and he saw Shakky approaching them with a tray in hand, loaded with mugs and plates. Breakfast was probably not the worst idea. It would delay Shanks from ripping Ray's head off.

"It's obvious, Shanks. Also, a 'he' slipped," she simply stated, and placed the tray between them on the small table. Shanks just huffed but said nothing. There was no use, he would never win an argument against Shakky. Especially not when she was right. So he reached for a mug, filled it with coffee and added sugar and milk. Then he took a sip, while Shakky lit herself a cigarette. It was such a familiar gesture, Shanks relaxed a little more at the smell of smoke.

"Are you telling me now why you can't seal it?" he asked as casually as he could, because he didn't want to break the peace that surrounded them. It was a dangerous, fragile thing, because as long as the issue of the ring wasn't clear and fixed, Shanks knew nothing was safe in a mile's radius. He was glad to know that Ray could restrain him if necessary.

"Because there is nothing to be sealed," Ray answered him, his eyes intense. This was no game and Shanks knew he was speaking the truth, as wrong as it may sound. He inhaled deeply, his fingers closing tightly around the mug.

"You said yourself it's black magic, how can there be nothing to be sealed. I even sealed it myself," Shanks said as he exhaled again. He had held his breath to give his former teacher time to add something, but there hadn't been anything more.

"Yes, I know. That is why I knew it is black magic," Ray explained and added, "Shanks. I feel nothing coming from this ring. I wouldn't even recognize it as an owner's ring without the engraving. To me, this is just a normal ring, except for the fact that I feel your seal. A seal to prevent anyone from using it. But no one except you would be able to use it anyway. I doubt anyone else than you can feel the power within it. The black magic stops anyone other than the current owner to ever use this ring."

Mouth slightly open and eyes wide while the air suddenly felt harder to breathe, Shanks could only stare at Rayleigh. The words echoed in his mind, but he couldn't process them. How was this possible? His mind just refused to work properly anymore.

"What does … what does that mean?" Shanks question had been directed at Rayleigh, but it was Shakky who answered. She sat herself next to her husband on the couch, a coffee in her hand as well.

"It does mean that you are the only one that can ever open that necklace."


	5. awareness

"That can't be… no, I refuse," Shanks stammered, taken aback by the words. The whole impact of Shakky's words hit him when he realized what it meant. If he was the only one who could open the necklace, the possibility was high he would never be able open it at all. If he was too weak, he would be trying it again and again without any results. No, this was something he refused to believe. He couldn't face telling Benn he was stuck in his life as a slave forever.

Shanks knew it wouldn't matter how often he told Benn he was free. The only way the man would truly believe it, was when Shanks opened the necklace, and he had sworn to himself he would find a way to make that happen. He didn't even know why, but he never wanted to see those eyes tear up again.

The guilt and the anger came back, building up in him. His body was shaking and he didn't realize he was spilling his coffee. He also didn't see the alarming glances Shakky and Ray were throwing at each other when the air around him became thicker and filled with unspoken words. His usually bright eyes changed, getting cold and darker, as his thoughts swirled in his head, he himself unable to control his feelings. He wasn't aware of any of it.

"Shanks!" Ray shouted, but it didn't reach the man's ear. "Shanks!" Again, nothing happened. "SHANKS!"

This time Ray's shout was filled with magic, and it thundered through the room, the volume increased drastically. The mug in Shanks' hand slipped and fell to the floor, hot coffee spilling over most of his legs, his wide eyes suddenly full of fear. It wasn't Ray's shout but the use of magic that had startled Shanks out of his vortex of feelings. When he looked in the terrified faces of whom he considered two of the most important people in his life, he realized what had happened and bit his lower lip, a poor attempt not to cry.

The lack of words made it even harder for Shanks, his whole self just an inch away from breaking and crumbling. He was glad when Shakky found her composure again, picked up most pieces of the broken mug and mumbled some words to dry the trousers Shanks was wearing. The magic worked immediately, though it didn't help the brownish stain. Good thing he had packed another pair.

"I'm sorry," Shanks mumbled eventually and Ray sighed, running a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture. His gaze was piercing but not without worry, and it made Shanks feel like fifteen again. It wasn't a time he liked to remember, with too much pain and hurt, too much loss and too little stability in his life. He let his lids shut close, trying to push the cutting memories aside. It only worked partially and instead of feeling his magic twirl, the guilt was back and before his inner eye a face, cold and indifferent but beautiful as marble, stared at him. Automatically his hands wandered to his hair and pulled at it. Benn wasn't like that. Shanks had to believe that one day he would see him smile at him genuinely, but how when he was too weak to open that necklace?

Before he could fall back into that circle of fear, pain and guilt again, strong hands settled over his and pulled them away. When he looked up, his eyes met with Ray's who was forcing him to stop ripping his hair out. Shanks gave in to that power, but not because he wanted to, but because he knew there was no other way.

The tension didn't vanish completely, but Shanks forced himself to regain his composure at least so much that it fooled Shakky and Rayleigh into believing he was calm again. He knew he wasn't, he knew he could break any minute, but a small voice in his head whispered that he didn't have the right anymore. Because he was a Yonko, he had to be strong and finally act like an adult. The excuse of being an unstable teenager wasn't working anymore, even though sometimes he wished it would. What differed him from his fifteen year old self?

"Shanks, talk to us," Shakky said, breaking the silence while her eyes darted over him. She was looking for evidence that her bar was safe again and Shanks gave her no sign to think differently, though still, nothing was safe.

"I'm talking," he answered lowly and Ray sighed, making an attempt to stand up, but was pushed back onto the couch by his wife. Instead, Shakky stood up and walked straight to the kitchen. It seemed the time for coffee was over and the time for strong alcohol had just begun. Not that Shanks minded, he felt like he needed it.

"Then please tell me what's on your mind." Ray's words intended to be sharp, but they only sounded exhausted. That was the sole reason Shanks wasn't exploding again. He wouldn't have coped well with a scolding now.

"I can't open that necklace. No one else can. I told him he's free but he isn't… he never will be." No words about the tears, no words about the blood that had seeped down Benn's throat. Not one single syllable about the guilt and the fear and the shame Shanks was feeling. Because he was an adult and therefore had to deal with it himself.

"That is not true. Damn the goddesses Shanks, there is no way this necklace will stay closed forever. You are one of the strongest persons alive, there is no way this -" Ray struggled for words, but was cut off by dry laughter.

"I'm not. You keep telling me that, because Roger told you so, but I'm not. I was barely fifteen. How should he have known? I can't open a simple necklace. You picked the wrong person to rule this country." The words were as dry and numb as the laughter had been, and just the moment Shakky returned with three glasses and a bottle of whiskey, Shanks stood up. He picked the ring out of Ray's hand, slipped it over his finger, grabbed the bottle of alcohol off the tray and reached for his bag. "I'm gonna sleep," he announced, before he was off, vanishing into his old room he knew Shakky had gotten ready for him.

* * *

Ray fell back onto the couch. He had gotten up when Shanks had moved to snatch the ring out of his hand, feeling shocked and angry, but mostly overwhelmed. To focus was nearly impossible and it was only when he heard glasses clink and sensed a warm presence next to him that he looked up. Shakky's expressions mirrored his own, though she was also concerned about him. The dull shadow in her hazel eyes revealed it.

"I'm afraid, Shak … I'm honestly afraid," Ray whispered, all his energy gone. His hands were shaking, and he regretfully thought of the whisky Shanks had taken with him. He needed something strong to drink, to calm his nerves. Still he eased visibly when Shakky reached for his hand and entangled their fingers with each other.

"I know," she answered him, looking at the spot where Shanks had just sat and that was now empty. The spilled coffee still glimmered on the floor, a reminder of what had happed, but also what could have happened but luckily didn't. "I know… he just left too early."

The last time Ray had cried over Roger's loss had been years ago, but now silent tears streaked over his face and he made no attempt to stop it. He had selfishly thought Shanks would manage as time passed. He had always believed it, clung to the hope and convinced himself that with age, the pain would fade. But somehow Rayleigh had also always known it had been a lie and today reality had caught up with him.

For the first few months, probably the first year, Ray had focused solely on his own pain. With Roger's death, the people had lost their high king, but not Ray - first and foremost he had lost his best friend, murdered by the government in front of thousands of people. Ray hadn't been there, he hadn't been able to bring himself to watch.

The world had been in turmoil after that incident. The small bits of structure Roger had been able to give his people were crushed in an instant. Once cheered at for being brave and an adventurer, now the civilians thought of their former high king as a criminal. Ray knew better, he knew that most of what had been told to the people was fake. A big charade, to keep the peace. A very fragile peace that crumbled more and more.

The known land wasn't reigned by blood. Neither the former high king, nor the Yonkos had been crowned because of any birthright. The folk didn't believe in something as succession by blood, the only thing they believed in was power. Roger had been powerful, he had been able to wield magic in dimensions Ray hadn't ever fully been able to grasp. Shanks, Whitebeard, Kaidou and Big Mom – the four Yonko - were supposed to be equal in their power, but for different reasons it wasn't true. It was just that some of them were more bloodthirsty and more interested in power than the other. Still, Rayleigh was sure no one reached Roger. Maybe Whitebeard… maybe Shanks, one day. It was impossible to say for certain.

When Roger had been High King, the Government hadn't been able to keep the man in check. They had tried, afraid of his power and the knowledge he had gleaned over his many travels on which Ray had accompanied him. In the end, they had denounced and executed him. For the use of black magic, a magic that was forbidden by a law that prevailed higher than anything else. The world believed in Roger's turpitude and only the fewest looked closer when everything seemed so obvious.

Very few people knew of the connection between Shanks and Roger. It hadn't been a secret, but they also hadn't made it utterly public that Roger had adopted Shanks. It was mostly not an issue, since at that time Shanks had only been eight, and Roger hadn't been High King yet. They had been mere travelers, seafarer, adventurers, who went out to seek truth. But time had changed their situations, people had started to call Roger a king, and later High King. Under him there had been peace, unity, maybe just because no one ever dared to attack him, or accomplished his downfall. But when he had died... many things had fallen apart.

Shanks had only been fifteen when the execution had taken place, but Roger had deemed him strong enough to carry on his legacy. Rayleigh would never forget this one talk in which Roger had told him to watch the boy, so they wouldn't lose another one they held dear. He knew what Roger had wanted to tell him with it. He knew it, but now, now he realized that maybe he had broken his promise. Because he had been too focused on his own pain. Because it hadn't just been his best friend, or the high king who had died. Shanks had lost Roger, the man who was like a father to him, too. His friend would have known what to do. Roger would have been able to show Shanks how to control and wield his power. He would also have been able to convince him to see what he really was worth and could do. But Roger was dead, and for the first time, the tears Ray cried were solely for the loss Shanks had endured, and not for his own, because only now he had realized that Shanks had probably lost even more than he had.

* * *

With soundless steps Shakky walked down the stairs, slipping back into the main room of the bar. Normally she was an energetic person, but today all her energy had been spent just for the talk with Shanks. The half empty bottle of whiskey in her hand was the proof that he endured more than he would ever admit to. Shanks was in some way like her son, and it wasn't easy to watch him being so hopeless and angry.

When she closed the door behind her, Rayleigh looked up, the question visible in his eyes. He hadn't really moved since she had walked up to check on the boy. Oh yes, he may be an adult now, but for Shakky he would always be a boy.

"Is he asleep?" Ray asked her with a weary voice, and the woman nodded, holding up the bottle. The alcohol had probably knocked the redhead out. Scarier was the amount that had been necessary to fulfill the task. A normal person shouldn't be able to drink half a bottle of whiskey in one go…

It wasn't long anymore until she had to open the bar. Maybe an hour or one and a half. Hopefully they wouldn't have much to deal with today. She knew that even with Ray to help her, they both were currently at their limit, and the constant worry for Shanks carved at her. For a moment, she closed her eyes, then she walked up to Ray and sat down in the chair Shanks had sat in before the whole situation had escalated.

She could see Rayleigh running a hand over his face, before his eyes locked with hers. It was just like that, that he knew what was going on with her and maybe, maybe he knew what was on her mind. One question haunted her, and she bit her lips.

"Spill it, Shakky. I won't judge you," he said with a tired sigh. It wasn't the time for pointless discussions or wasted energy on forcing someone to speak, so she went with it, and just asked.

"Is he really as strong as you said?"

It seemed Ray had seen the question coming, because he didn't even blink. Instead, he forced himself to smile, but his lips barely turned upward. It was answer enough for Shakky, and she knew all the things he would explain to her now were about the details.

"Yes he is. I wouldn't call him the strongest yet, considering there are people out there like Whitebeard, like the other Yonko, but yes, he is strong. Stronger than he thinks he is and definitely one of the most powerful people alive," Rayleigh told her and then looked down at his open hands. It felt like he hadn't spoken the truth entirely. There had been something in his tone that told the woman it wasn't all. One little detail he hadn't told her yet… yet?

Her eyes grew big, and she had to force herself to not spring into a standing position, grab Rayleigh's shoulders and shake him. Her body shook heavily at the thought that had just struck her mind. That couldn't be. It just had to be a mistake. But a quiet inner voice told her it wasn't.

"What do you mean, not yet? Ray, he is twenty-three. He must have come off age by now. Tell me he has," she nearly shouted, and didn't realized she pierced the arm rest with her fingernails.

The sad and weary look of her husband, the apologetic smile, the slight shivering of his lips. He didn't need to answer. He didn't need to say it out loud. Her body fell against the back of the chair, her eyes darting upwards to the ceiling, to where Shanks was sleeping. With shivering hands she massaged her temples, and yet it was hard to process the news. Shanks wasn't just one of the strongest people alive, no, his magic was also still growing, twirling in him, and the older he got the less he would be able to control it, until he would finally come off age and reach his prime. Only after the magical growth had come to an end, they could be sure of Shanks being able to control his power. But until then… until then a lot could happen.

* * *

"We're nearly done," Roo said with a smile on his lips and Benn looked up, his hand darting to this one strand of his black hair that had escaped his ponytail He pushed it out of his face, but it fell just back in place. After a while of working with his hair open, which had been annoying as hell, one of the girls, she was around fourteen, fifteen, had offered him a hairband. He had taken it gladly, and Roo had told him Laki, the girl, always helped with setting up the breakfast before she went to school. She was a friendly though energetic person, and Benn couldn't come around to like her.

"Good to know," he answered the chef, a tiny grin on his lips, as he dried his hands on one of the many towels they had used to dry the last bits of water off the crockery. They had used a drying spell, though some last parts of drops still stayed, which was only normal when Benn considered the amount of plates, cutlery and pans, bowls and what not all they had used. It was only breakfast, for shouting out loud. He was glad Roo had help for lunch and dinner. Feeding around a hundred people wasn't easy work.

"I have..." Roo checked the clock on the wall inside the kitchen, "...two hours of free-time, before I have to head back and start preparing lunch. You wanna have a quick tour through the palace? I can show you around."

Benn's eyes darted through the kitchen, over the freezing box which cooled down perishables thanks to a cooling spell that worked only inside the wooden box. There were a few last dishes they had to dry and put away, and they probably needed to clean the counters again, but there wasn't much left to do. It seemed Roo caught his thoughts as he grinned and held out a hand. With a smile Benn gave him the towel he still held, and nodded. It seemed Roo intended to clean the rest later on. "Sure, a tour would be nice."

They walked out of the kitchen, back into the hall. A few people still sat at the tables and chatted, but it was relatively empty considering the buzzing it had been earlier. Breakfast was served for two hours, and in these two hours people came and went, getting whatever they liked to eat, before starting their work. Roo had just chatted away the whole morning, so by now Benn had a good idea of how things worked in this castle.

It seemed like most of the workers were former slaves who had been freed by Shanks and then had decided to stay. They did what suited their skills, from cleaning and doing the laundry for almost all of the court to administration task. There wasn't anything that didn't exist in this castle, even farmers lived here, working on nearby fields, providing the court with a decent amount of food.

When Roo had pointed out the people were free to go or stay, Benn had suppressed the urge to reach for the necklace under the scarf. He was sure the chef was telling the truth, after all he had been in the hall when the necklaces had dropped. But he was also sure he was the one exception that confirmed the rule. There had been a strange side-glance from Roo, who had easily changed the topic, but the lingering feeling of unspoken words had stayed for a while until it got too busy in the kitchen to think of anything other than frying bacon and saving the scrambled eggs from burning.

It was a strange feeling to face the man without the safety of the kitchen. In there, Benn had been able to shut off his thoughts. He was a pleasure slave, but that didn't mean he had never done other tasks before. Working was safe ground for him. Roo treated him nice enough and he hadn't felt out of place. Being back in the hall now changed it, and suddenly Benn wasn't so sure anymore if it had been a good idea to accept the invitation of a tour. His brain told him that he still was a slave, no matter what, and things like private tours through the house weren't what he usually received.

"So where do you wanna start?" Roo asked him with a smile, walking past him to head for the door. The chef probably assumed Benn would follow, but he didn't move. What should he answer anyway? What was he supposed to see and what not? Where there places he wasn't allowed to go to? There were always places he wasn't allowed in. He didn't want to get Roo into trouble for showing him around without permission of his… his friend? Higher-up? Superior? What was Shanks to Roo and the rest of the people who lived here, when Roo had stated so well he was just a cook.

When the chef realized Benn wasn't following him, he turned and looked at the man critically. To avoid the questioning look, Benn just gazed at the floor, biting his lips. He was torn between believing in the friendliness that he had received throughout the day, and the cold metal around his neck that was a constant reminder of who he was. Even though he had no idea what Shanks was for the others, it was unmistakably that for Benn, he was his master and the man who owned him. It would always be like that as long as the necklace stayed locked around his throat.

"I better should go back," he mumbled, wondering how his daily routine would look like from now on. He couldn't be sure, as Shanks was not here to give him any orders. He doubted he would be lucky enough to run the meals with Roo in the kitchen. That would be… nice. But it usually wasn't what he was bought for. Until he knew, though, he considered it the safest to not draw attention. Or get people who were friendly to him into trouble. By now he could feel the gazes of the few men who were still in the dining hall oh him. They weren't even speaking anymore, and it was too quiet for Benn's liking.

"No, you shouldn't. There is no need for you to be sitting in the kitchen all alone," Roo told him, sounding friendly and firm at the same time. He didn't seem to notice the stares. Or maybe he just didn't care. However it was, he had his own way to be encouraging and when he reminded Benn that Shanks wouldn't be back before tomorrow and therefore he could perfectly well join him while walking around, Benn gave in. The chef was right, and it wouldn't hurt him to know his way around.

"So, again, where do you wanna start?" Roo asked when Benn had finally moved and caught up with him. At the question though, Benn just shrugged - how should he know what there was to see? He never had been in the palace before. Or in any other palace this big, even though there had been some houses that came close. But before, he had usually been placed in one room to serve in whichever way his current master had demanded. Most of the time, it had been him being the present to please the favored person of his owner. The room hadn't always contained a bed, though, and serving hadn't always been painless.

For a short moment, Benn's expression had gone numb and he hadn't realized the concerned frown that swept over Roo's face. But then he managed to push those haunting memories aside and concentrated on reality again. His mouth twitched in apology before he spoke. "What special places are there that I need to know?"

"How about the gardens, the gym, the baths and sanitary rooms… ah wait your room has an extra bathroom, so no need to know that, even though I should probably show you, just in case. Then there is the library, ..." Roo counted and stopped with a grin. Benn's face had visibly lit up with the word library, which hadn't gone past the other man. It seemed even he was easy to read, well at least sometimes. With a chuckle Roo opened the door that lead into a hall, and let Benn pass him. "We'll start with the library, I'd say."

* * *

The library was huge. Benn had no other word to describe it as his eyes widened in awe. There were hundreds of books, all neatly placed in wooden shelves, standing next to each other, whispering with those tempting voices, telling him to reach for them, read them and learn. He turned in a circle, looking up and trying to get the size of the room, but it was near to impossible. Even he, as a very tall man, couldn't possibly reach to the highest shelf by himself. There was a glass dome covering the main entrance he was now standing in, next to Roo. The light shining through bathed the whole library in natural light, and Benn guessed it served to create a friendly and easy for the eye atmosphere. Working here would be a bliss.

There were also several tables, with cushioned chairs or actual couches, that invited to sit down and just drown in the different worlds a book could contain while reading. Benn always had loved escaping his actual life for a while by reading, but the time he had been granted to do so had been limited. His eyes darted to the edges and walls, but he couldn't tell how far the library reached, as it went on behind a corner he had no way to see around from his position.

"It was a good idea to come here first," Roo eventually spoke, after letting Benn take in the sight, and the man who seemingly had been lost in his thoughts forced himself to look up from the books and their secrets to his present company. Roo smiled softly, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his body as relaxed as Benn knew his would never be. "I haven't seen you this much at ease until now. It suits you."

A pang of misery rushed through Benn at hearing those words, but he locked the yearning away. He knew Roo hadn't meant it to be some kind of scolding, but it reminded him that he wasn't in the place to start dreaming. Granting himself a last quick look to the hidden stories each of these books contained, Benn forced his mind back to reality. His far-away expression was replaced by a friendly but forced smile.

"Thank you," he said politely as always, but at the same time could see how the soft happiness fell from Roo's face. It was just minuscule before the smile was directed back at Benn, but now it was different. He could see the wish in the other man's eyes to not have said anything at all. It made Benn wonder again why the people here were so different from everyone he had ever had to interact with before.

An oppressive silence developed between them, both of them realizing that those few words had managed to shift the mood into something heavier than it had been before. What saved them from having the stillness become awkward though, was a relatively small man who was past his best years. For Benn, it was as if he appeared out of nowhere, but Roo seemed to know him because a sigh escaped the chef's lips and he seemed to relax again.

"Hello Professor," Roo greeted the older man and got back a nod. He didn't seem to notice Benn, at least not until he was being introduced. Then the old eyes swept over him, and somehow it made Benn shudder. The look wasn't piercing in the way many people watched him, people who regarded his body as if it was a product they could consume. Instead there was recognition in his gaze, even though it was nearly hidden behind years of life-experience. And there was astonishment, too. For a short moment Benn wanted to disappear, to get away from eyes that seemed to know too much, but then he gathered his wits again while Roo said, "May I introduce to you, this is Benn. He arrived here yesterday. Benn, this is Professor Clover, our librarian."

"Nice to meet you, Professor," Benn managed to say, his voice wavering under the strange feeling that spread through his veins. His words though seemed to pull the older man out of his thoughts and the knowing expression changed.

"Nice to meet you too, Benn...," he answered, his words trailing off, as if he wanted to hear a second name, to complete the sentence. But Benn only gave him a courteous nod. "Just Benn."

It was rare for a slave to have a second name, those who had been born into slavery never got one. They weren't deemed worthy to be gifted with such, as names hold power - a legacy slaves shouldn't carry. It was believed to be easier to handle them when making them think there was no place they came from and there would be none to go to. Benn had a second name, given to him by his parents before… before… he closed his eyes, breathing in and out, suppressing the tears that began to blur his sight. The memories would only tear him apart, so he locked them up in some deep, dark corner of his soul. All he needed to know was that once he had been someone. He treasured his name, as well as the smile of his father and the scent of his mother. No one needed to know his second name, so they couldn't use it against him.

"Did you want anything, Professor?" Roo asked, unaware of the surfacing sadness, and provided the last bit of distraction for Benn to face reality again. The memories were once again securely locked up. There was no need to give them room to hurt him.

"No, I mean, yes, but...," the professor said absentmindedly and then shook his head, before he ordered his thoughts and remembered what he actually wanted to say. "I heard Shanks went out. There are uproars in, ah I forgot the name again, however, I wanted to talk to him. I'm not sure but-"

"But you think it could be Nico Robin?", Roo finished his sentence, sounding concerned. The Professor only nodded, his eyes speaking of misery. Benn wondered who this Nico Robin was, but she must be someone pretty close to the old man, because beside the misery were also fear and concern visible on his face.

"He plans to be back by tomorrow. I'll tell him to see you when he comes down for breakfast… or lunch," Roo promised, and then he turned to Benn, who had just stood next to them, listening. "You can come here whenever you want and have time to. Feel free to borrow whatever books you like, just tell Professor Clover. He keeps track of them all."

"I'm here most of the time, but if I'm not, you will find lists on the counter of my desk, to add the title and author of the book you borrowed," Professor Clover added to Roo's explanation and eyed Benn again, before he shook his head in negation, as if he wanted to tell himself it couldn't be. "It was nice meeting you, Benn," he finished, and again Benn had the strange feeling the other one wanted to add a second name, even though he couldn't know he actually had one.


	6. home

When Shanks woke up, his head hurt immensely, which wasn't a real surprise considering the amount of whiskey he had downed to be able to forget and find some sleep. He wished he couldn't remember the accusations that had left his lips, the swirl of magic and the pain that had confirmed his inability to open Benn's necklace, but he could see the events clearly in front of his inner eye. Nothing had gone as planned, and now it was added up by a hangover. Brilliant.

He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and looked around the room - his old room, where he had lived for three years. There were still the old pictures on the walls, happy faces smiling down on him. A young looking Roger, his arm slung over Rayleigh's shoulder. His grin as wide as it had always been, and the mustache seemingly grinning as well. Shanks had taken the photo when he had been ten. It was the only one that had worked out. The others had been blurred because neither Shanks nor Roger or Rayleigh had been able to stand still for long.

Next to the photo was a map, drawn by Ray. It showed great parts of the known land, even though there had been discovered even more now. Shanks knew his old teacher could draw an accurate map of the world as it was known today, but he kept this one for sentimental reasons. Ray had drawn it for him on their big journey with Roger, as part of one of his lessons. They had seen places no one else he knew or had heard about had ever been to, they had traveled the sea, and they had landed on that one island people spoke of as if it was an illusion, a dream only. It wasn't, as Shanks knew himself. He had seen it, but… it didn't matter. Things got lost after Roger's death, knowledge died with him. But Shanks knew he wanted to see the ocean again. Sometimes, in silent moments like this one, he wondered if there was more to the world than what he had seen with Roger. He wondered if the world went on, behind that massive body of water that was called the great sea. He probably would never know, because his duties as a Yonko kept him chained to this land. He couldn't just abandon the people that trusted him to keep them safe.

Roger had never wanted to die, Shanks knew that much. But he knew life wasn't a bowl of cherries, and things didn't always go as planned. After those many months, years of travel, when Roger had become High King, Shanks had stayed with Rayleigh and Shakky in a small but comfortable house in Manoas. It never had bothered him - he had visited the castle more often than he could count. Roger had just wanted to keep him out of trouble, so officially he was just a worker's boy. Unofficially he knew the castle better than everyone, even better than Roger. He had strolled through the corridors, without people taking notice of him. The hidden rooms, the concealed doors, Shanks was sure he knew all of them. When he had been a young boy flipping tapestries aside in search of secret passageways, he had believed things would stay like this forever. Now it was his own castle.

His left hand pushed the sleeve of his shirt up and a golden armlet appeared. It was heavy, similar to the metal most of the slave's necklaces were made out of, but this one wasn't holding the cruel magic that bound a human to another, just because their luck had left them. In the middle of the shimmering gold was a red stone, surrounded by engravings, old words written down in a language people had forgotten in the last hundreds of years. It was called Poneglyh, or so Roger had told him. He had also told Shanks this metal held strength, but until now it had only been a reminder of what still had to be achieved.

A single tear rolled down Shanks' cheek as he tried to keep the memories at bay. He had promised to carry on Roger's legacy, a promise not even Rayleigh knew of. He had promised to find the one person that would reveal the lost century, a forgotten history, but sometimes he doubted he could succeed. He couldn't even open a simple necklace, how could he ever think of making a change?

Fifteen was too young an age to claim a throne or a crown or whatever people thought was claimed when someone became the ruler of a large area. Shanks had never really cared, he had thought he had time. He had thought Roger would once more explain what he wished him to do when he was older, so he could understand it better. When he had accepted that armlet and made a promise he wouldn't break, he had thought time would show him what to do, where to go, but instead there had been an execution, and Rayleigh had taken him to safety. A safety that had been supposed to be this room, this bar Shakky had opened, which had been a try to build some kind of stability in times of grief and uproar. Nevertheless Shanks had been attacked, which had led to the three scars over his left eye. He knew who had attacked him, but he could only guess at the reason. The excuses Ray had made were just that, mere excuses, and Shanks knew it was more than the talk about people not wanting him to claim Roger's status. He had only been fifteen, and far from being a threat.

When Shanks turned eighteen, he had claimed the title as a Yonko. There had been people who had served gladly under Roger and remembered the worker's boy with the vivid red hair. Rayleigh, who had once been first minister under Roger, had fought hard to retain at least a part of the territory, even though Whitebeard, Big Mom and Kaidou had divided big parts among themselves. Shanks had started out small, but fought his way up. Now he was equal to the other Yonko, or at least people believed it. He wasn't sure he believed in himself like others did.

In those three years between Roger's death and him claiming the title as Yonko, Shanks had lived in this bar, serving drinks, washing dishes and helping out Shakky. This small room, with its bed, the photos and the map on the wall, the desk and a wardrobe had been his safe haven. There would probably still be some clothes in the wardrobe, even though he doubted they still fit. He was taller than he had thought he would become when he was fifteen, and nowadays only a few people matched him in height. A lump formed in Shanks' throat. Benn did, the man was minimum a hand taller than himself.

Instead of walking down a road of long past memories and thoughts that made him feel miserable, Shanks rubbed his temples and averted his eyes from the map. He craved a good's night rest, even though he had just gotten up. But he wanted to get back to his castle, better today than tomorrow, though the growing darkness of evening made him realize the two elders probably wouldn't let him ride. Not when it would be way past midnight when he arrived at home.

Some spoken words lit the candles in the room, and Shanks looked in his bag for his second pair of trousers. The other one needed to be laundered properly before he could wear it again. Damn coffee. When he was fully dressed he sighed and headed for the stairs. Yonko or not, he knew what it meant to run a bar, and after all the trouble he had caused Rayleigh and Shakky, he could at least help them out since it was too late to leave for home anyway. It was the busiest time of the day, now. He just hoped no one would recognize him as the Yonko he was, but thankfully the clientele that usually frequented Shakky's bar would rather bet on heaven to fall down than believe a Yonko would serve them.

His hand shoved the white fabric of his sleeve back down, covering all evidence of a once spoken promise, before he made his way downstairs. Hopefully, his headache would vanish soon.

* * *

The noise from the bar couldn't be ignored and Shanks wished someone would just shoot him dead, before the ache in his temples managed to killed him. If sleep would come easier to him, he would probably drink less, but nightmares were a constant reminder of the past. It was either waking up screaming or drinking half a bottle of booze. He had chosen the latter as the lesser devil and lived with the constant hangovers. Sleeping peacefully had been even harder after the conflict he had just had in the morning.

From behind the bar he could see Shakky scurry through the considerable number of guests, carrying a tray with bottles and glasses in her hand. Ray must be in the kitchen, as Shanks couldn't spot him. He moved his shoulders in circles in a try to get rid of the tension, but it didn't really help, so he just started making his way through the tables to collect the empty tankards.

The bar was lit with several oil lamps, hanging from the wooden pillars or on the walls. In a corner were couches arranged around small round tables to relax and chat. On one of them he had sat in the morning with the two others, when everything had escalated. There was a small raised area where people could dance, too, though it was almost empty at the moment. The rest of the space was filled with tables and bar stools, all made from rustic, dark wood. Wide linen cloth spanned over the ceiling, creating a feeling of divided areas even though it was just one open room. Maybe the bar was a little rugged, and definitely not the cleanest, but it was comfortable. To be honest, the area Shakky and Ray had decided to settle in wasn't the safest or wealthiest anyway, so neatness didn't matter to most guests. When he had been younger, he had wondered why they had chosen exactly this place to live, but now Shanks knew it had been for his own safety. Many people avoided places where they could be stabbed from behind, the sole reason being greed.

People would say a bar like this wasn't the best place to keep a boy like him safe, but soon after they had opened, the place had obtained the reputation of being even more dangerous than the streets if you didn't pay, which was true. No one ever managed to swindle Shakky without her finding out and taking the double amount of bellies, which was the currency in the known land. The 'Rip-off Bar' hadn't gotten its name without cause.

Picking up several empty bottles with ease, he tried to remember all the randomly called-out orders for new booze, without mixing anything up. Being hungover didn't help. At least it was a little comfort to know that ninety percent of the people here drinking themselves into oblivion would have one tomorrow, too.

Shanks reached the bar again, dropped the bottles into the bin, and started to prepare the many drinks. He was a decent barkeeper, most of the things he had learned over the three years he had worked here on a daily basis never forgotten. When he reached for lemon syrup to give a whiskey sour a last final note, soft hands touched his temples. He closed his eyes, feeling quiet, easing words floating through his head, and his pulsing headache slowly started to fade. But before the spell was completely finished, Shanks pushed the hands away and turned to face those sad, brown eyes that belonged to Shakky.

"Don't," he mumbled with a low voice, and when he put his hand down again, his eyes caught a quick flash of the golden owner's ring. Pain, like a slash with a sharp dagger, cut through his heart, reminding him again why this misery was his and his alone. "Don't take what isn't yours."

"Shanks...," Shakky started to protest, but his expression was enough to keep her from voicing her objections. Taking away his headache was a nice gesture, but it had cost her a certain amount of energy. As Shakky was no trained doctor, she certainly would feel at least part of the pain herself, and that wasn't something Shanks wanted. It was his fault alone things had ended like they had and he would not allow her to suffer more than she already did.

"You're no hero, so don't act like one," a dark voice said from beside him. Rayleigh's voice was filled with accusation, but Shanks could see the concern in his eyes. He sighed and turned to face his old teacher. "I'm not, I just want to savor my hangover a little while longer," he smirked with sarcasm glinting in his eyes. Hero? Rayleigh was right, he was the last person who should be considered a hero - he was just trying to do his bloody job!

"I need to talk with you, let's get out of here for a minute," Ray just replied without responding to the snide comment. The way he let those words sound, Shanks knew he wouldn't accept a no, so he quickly informed Shakky of who had ordered what, and followed the older man through the tables and stools to the exit.

The cold air slapped him awake and a sudden sting bolted through Shanks' head, accompanied by a sudden dizziness that dared to kick him off his feet. His hand darted up to rub at his temple, but before it could touch the skin, Ray had snatched his wrist. The skin felt rugged against his own.

"What are you doing?" Shanks asked while he watched the other man eyeing the golden ring that shimmered in the quickly fading light of the evening. Soon, the cicadas' chirping wouldn't allow a normal conversation anymore. Rough fingers that weren't his own softly touched the ring, as if they were searching, testing. Maybe Shanks would have jumped to conclusions a little faster, but the headache that had just increased due to the sudden oxygen shock hindered him from thinking clearly.

"Shakky gave me an idea about sealing the ring without me being able to feel the magic," Ray answered absentmindedly. A raised eyebrow was the only answer to that statement, then the old man started to speak. The magic that formed around them was strong, yet familiar. Whenever words were backed up with as much power as Rayleigh had at his command, something in the air would shift. Had he had the desire to do so, Shanks was sure he could have grabbed those shimmering swathes and influenced them to his liking. Instead of interrupting, though, he just watched as the ring seemed to absorb them like a sponge. After a minute or so it was already over, the only thing surrounding them the cold night air and the chirping sounds of the nocturnal animals.

The silence filling the space between the two man was interrupted by a deep intake of breath on Rayleigh's side. "I can't believe you can see them just like that. I mean, I know and with effort and concentration, I could force myself to do so, too, but..."

The voice faded into nothingness. There was no need for Rayleigh to go on with his sentence, Shanks knew what he had wanted to add. Roger had been able to see the words of magic as well, without actually concentrating on it. Seeing magic could be learned, but the most people didn't bother to. It took years of training, and concentration as well as willpower. Shanks however had always been able to see them without any effort – a rare ability he didn't fully understand himself.

"What is it you have placed on the ring?" Shanks asked to steer the topic back to the spell Rayleigh had just wielded. Talking about his power was nothing he wanted to do right now. It would just lead to his title as Yonko again, which would in turn lead to the memory of the morning that still left him feeling sick with guilt. He shouldn't have lost his control like that, he thought. Not anymore, at least.

"A seal," was the answer and again, Shanks raised an eyebrow. It was exactly what he had asked for a few hours ago. Back then the old man had refused his request, and told him in plain words there was no way. What had changed that assessment so suddenly?

Holding up his hand to regard the ring, Shanks furrowed his brow. If the ring really was sealed now, it would keep Benn a little safer. That was the only thing that counted, but he still had doubts. He needed this to work, so he couldn't accidentally harm Benn the next time he tried to open the necklace. Because he would certainly try, again and again until this damn necklace opened and the promised freedom became tangible reality.

Rayleigh must have seen the concerns on Shanks' face, because he started to speak again, his voice a little lower, and not as confident as Shanks wanted it to be, but he would take any help or advise he got. "I didn't seal the ring, I can't seal what I can't feel. But when Shakky told me to describe everything again, she pointed out I could seal your seal, Shanks. It's what I did. If you ever consciously or unconsciously want to remove your own words, you have to remove mine first."

"I hope you didn't go easy on it." Shanks' voice was filled with a little mocking, however he was glad to hear those news. It was not what he had hoped for, but it was at least something, another layer of protection for Benn.

"When did I ever went easy on something?" Ray asked with a judging look out of his wise eyes, his voice matching the inflection of the question, and suddenly both of them laughed, the tension vanished with the relief that it had not been all for naught. No, Rayleigh wasn't someone to go easy on something. Shanks still knew from the years during which he had been learning from him. He would never forget his methods to beat mathematics into his head. Just the memory made him shudder. There were reasons he hated numbers.

* * *

Dust swirled up when Shanks spurred his chestnut and waved, his horse already moving down the street in a quick trot. A coughing fit made Shakky bent down, her hand covering her mouth as she tried to get air back in her lungs, and Ray's eyes darted to her worriedly, trying to figure whether he should run into the house to get her a glass of water or not. But it lessened slowly, and a sigh escaped his lips, while he stepped closer to her, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her to his side. Her head rested at his shoulder as they watched Shanks becoming smaller in the distance. Only his red hair was shining vividly as always, until he pushed the hood of his coat over his head to hide his appearance.

"Will he be okay?" Shakky asked, her voice a little raspy from the coughing, and Ray let his head lean against hers too, taking in the scent of smoke. It was silent around them, apart from the usual noises of the still sleeping city. There were actual birds chirping audibly, a rare thing in the ever so busy Sabaody.

"I believe in his strength, just like Roger has believed in it... and him," Rayleigh answered his wife after a while and then let out a yawn. They had worked till late in the night, as usual when the bar was open. To say goodbye to Shanks, they had both risen way earlier than usual, and the tiredness was visible in eyelids wanting to close over red eyes that were circled by shadows. They really needed to get back to bed soon.

The sun was warm on the skin, even though it was early in the morning. Shanks had decided to ride back early, after all he would sit on his horse for around six hours and a trip like that was always safer when taken in daylight. Sabaody was a strange city, the districts varying greatly from sandy and hot at the edges that faced the Redline, to cool and green close to the Sandora River. It was why the rich and famous lived next to the scalawags of this land, as if they were totally unaware the other party existed.

"Do you think Shanks will figure out your seal is only fake?" Shakky asked in a low voice, her eyes darting from the spot Shanks had vanished to Ray's face.

"Hopefully not," was the simple answer, and both knew it would be for the best if Shanks kept on believing Ray had still the power to constrain his old pupil. But if Shanks really wanted to break his seal, he would be able to do so, simply by the power that grew in him to dimensions neither Shakky nor Rayleigh knew the limit of anymore. "When he believes he is safe from his own power he will be calmer."

A sigh sounded next to Ray's ear and as if it was a signal for both of them, they stepped back from their position. "Let's go to bed."

It were simply words, but they also carried a lot more than just their original meaning. Shakky was right, they couldn't do much now, other than waiting and hoping there was a way to open that necklace. It was a gamble to guess whether the necklace would open before Shanks came off age or the other way round, but not one Ray would bet his money on, though normally he took idiotic risks when it came to gambling.

"I will be away for a while in a few days." The words Ray spoke sounded like he was far away with his thoughts, and he was surprised when he felt a hand on his neck, pulling him down. The kiss was just a reassurance that is was okay. Shakky didn't even seem to be surprised.

"I know, it's okay. After all, you always come back," Shakky told him, and fished out a cigarette from one of the boxes in her pockets. Some words were mumbled, the stick waggling in her mouth before smoke began to rise that scented the air with her favorite flavor. A sly smirk crept up Rayleigh's lips while he watched her smoke. He would take some time off to see if he could find something out about that black magic that blocked the presence of other magical seals. His searching methods were just not the most legal. Not that anyone in this family cared.

"Yeah and I'm not going before tomorrow," he smirked. When Shakky was done with her cigarette and gripped his hand to lead him upstairs, Ray knew there would be something else, something enjoyable, before they finally went to sleep.

* * *

The ride back to his castle had been exhausting, but a lot easier than the one to Sabaody. It was strange what a little bit of sleep, and a proper breakfast could do, but for a person who slept rarely well or through a whole night, it made a huge difference. Also, there had been no rush. Roo was aware Shanks would be back some time during the day, but no one would miss him if he arrived one or two hours later. It also was a good excuse to get away from his duties for a little while. So he had taken his time, had given his horse a little peace and had watched the passing landscape as he rode through it.

The known land varied in its climate, flora and fauna, even though it was in general situated in a warm place. Only the Redline, a massive mountain chain that separated his and Kaidou's territory from Whitebeard's and Big Mom's was covered in snow. But that was to be expected since its highest peak could not even be seen when the sky was serene and cloudless. There were a few mountain passes that connected the two sides of the land, but it was a lot easier for the people living in either Whitebeard's or his territory to pass the border in the east, because there the land became flatter and finally merged in a massive jungle area.

Shanks was aware that his and Whitebeard's people, especially those living near the Dragon's passage, were in contact due to trading. It was a solitary exception to the normally stiff relationships of the Yonko and their people, to phrase it nicely. But the old man and him had always had a certain kind of respect towards each other, and as Marco was one of the other Yonko's sons and his ex-lover, Shanks couldn't help feeling favorable towards Whitebeard. He much preferred the truce over constantly having to be on guard, and as it had been Marco who ditched Shanks, Whitebeard hadn't even had a reason to be mad at him.

A sigh escaped Shanks at those memories, while he slowly rode through his city, Manoas, to get back home. Having a person to relay onto was nice, but Marco never had been that kind of partner. Even though there had been trust, the awareness that both of them should be enemies had raised nagging doubts. The end of that ill-fated relationship lay now years in the past, and Shanks held no ill feelings towards the other. What shouldn't be together normally didn't make it anyway.

His eyes darted over the houses of his home town, taking in the familiar scenery. Most of the walls were painted white, to keep the inside cool, despite the burning sun. It was spring time, still, but summer would come soon and make living harder with its heat. Water was provided by the Mano, a big river that ran through Manoas. It granted the city a quality of life a lot of other towns could only dream of. It was a lot greener, palm trees, hibiscus and aloe vera were just a few of the many plants and trees that grew between the houses, and in the gardens. It was so different from what he had seen on his ride from Sabaody to here. Even though the two cities were cornered by both the Sandora and Mano, there was a stretch of land in between where Shanks had only seen dry land. Cacti, tufts of grass and maybe some small bushes with tiny leafs were all that was left, fighting against the burning heat of the sun-rays. A lot of these plants would die in summer, and only when the winter brought some rain, the nature in these dried-out parts of the known land would come to life again.

* * *

It had taken him a while to reach his palace. Even with his hood covering his red hair people recognized him in his own city and wanted to greet him. He wasn't too sublime to ignore them, so he talked with people and listened to whatever they told him. It was a good way to discern if his town's folk was happy, and arrange for changes if not. Without these people, he would be nothing but a man sitting in a palace, and as a Yonko he had responsibilities. How could he reign a whole territory without making sure his own capital was safe and sound?

Entering the cool halls of his home was a relief nevertheless. The ride had been long and exhausting, but he knew each passing mile had been needed, to ensure Benn's safety. His heart became a little heavier thinking of the man, with those sad eyes who revealed so much and nothing at all.

Usually he would walk up straight to his room to take a nap and rest, but the haunting thoughts kept him from doing so. With swift steps, he headed towards the kitchen, hoping to catch a coffee, no matter it was already midday and lunch probably over. When he opened the door to the huge hall he saw he was right. Aside from two small groups who greeted him with smiles, no one else was around. Clattering sounded from the actual kitchen, while only some baskets of bread and one last stack of plates stood on the buffet, ready to be tidied up. A soft sigh escaped Shanks' mouth, as he looked around to be sure, but his fears had come true, the coffee already gone. Damnit.

While a small pout graced his face, the door to the kitchen opened and Roo stepped out. The chef hummed, smiling inwardly, perfectly at ease with himself. It took a while until he recognized Shanks, who hadn't stepped far into the room. However, when he did so his smile grew a little wider and he changed direction, to move to his superior.

"Shanks. Good to have you back. You're hungry?"

As usual his first question was about food, nothing else to be expected from Roo. A little chuckle left Shanks lips and he shrugged. It wasn't that he was particularly hungry, but he wouldn't say no to a snack and last but not least a cup of good coffee. It would be some time until he went to sleep tonight, and somehow he had the feeling that a nap wasn't going to happen today. "How about coffee and sandwiches? Or are there leftovers?"

"There are, but I'll get you your sandwiches," Roo answered and nodded to the kitchen, before he reached for the last few baskets and picked them up. Shanks followed him into the other room, always a little amazed how the chef managed to whip up such delicacies from this place. He would just mess up with all the pans, bowls and wooden spoons. Leaning against a counter he watched Roo put away the baskets before he filled a silvery kind of pot with ground coffee and water. The whole construct was placed on the hearth and Shanks shook his head, still astonished that something as simple as that could produce the finest coffee he knew – even though he had watched Roo making it many times by now.

"How was your trip?" The question wasn't surprising, as Roo was one of the few people who actually knew why Shanks had ridden to Ray in such a haste. While the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, the atmosphere became a little heavier. The tension was only interrupted by Roo's constant working on the sandwiches.

"Strange," came Shanks answer after a while of thinking how to phrase it. Trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, he forced himself not to think of the few moments his magic had slipped control. It was a burden he did not want to place on Roo's shoulders.

"It will be difficult. More difficult than I believed."

Holding a plate in his hands, Roo turned around to look at Shanks. The sad smile could not be missed, but instead of saying something, he shoved the food into the others hands. It looked delicious and when Shanks caught a glance that told him to start eating, he did as he was told. Tastes of cooked ham, sweet butter, sun-ripened tomatoes, basil and cheese melted on his tongue, again proofing why Roo was a master of his trade. "Thanks to all gods you're my chef. Seriously, I'm always amazed how good a simple sandwich can taste."

"You're just easy to satisfy," was the snide remark and it made Shanks grin. His chuckle sounded over to the other, and even though it didn't seem very polite since his mouth was still full of his bite, it's effect was still the same and a bit of the heaviness drained. Coffee was filled into a mug, topped up with sugar and milk. Roo hadn't had to ask, he knew how Shanks liked his drink. "Don't worry, this necklace won't stay on forever."

With a thankful nod Shanks took the mug to take a sip. The plate had been placed next to him on the counter, and now his hands were wrapped around the warm porcelain. Searching in Roo's face, he tried to find some evidence that the tone of voice really mirrored his feelings, and a small but determined sparkle in the other's eyes confirmed that indeed the words weren't just spoken to sooth Shanks' stressed-out mind, but also because Roo wanted to see Benn free. "How has it been while I was gone?"

For a moment there was silence around the two men, but then Roo grinned and Shanks couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Tell me!"

"You can see yourself if you like. If I remember correctly, he should be with Yasopp now, making the poor guy look like a fool with his bow."

* * *

During their walk to the gym Shanks was informed about what had happened during his absence. It wasn't much beside the news that Benn had been working with the chef in the kitchen and that Professor Clover had possible news about Robin. Shanks pondered this second issue and decided to visit the older librarian during the day.

The gym was an extra part of the palace, for free use by the staff whenever they liked. It contained a swimming pool, a running area as well as some fields to play different team sports, an area to train swordsmanship and an archery. The halls were connected to the palace by canopied passages, pillars out of red stone holding the ceiling. Several arcs gave a brilliant view into the large gardens that sprawled at the back of the building. Citrus and palm trees, hibiscus, some ponds and flowers over flowers invited to take a walk through the green that was spotted with colors. Shanks loved to sit outside when he needed time to think, but his duties kept him from doing so most of the time.

Few people were at the gym at this time of the day, most of the members of the palace busy with their work. When Roo and Shanks reached the archery building, they heard commotion coming from inside. The large wooden door was opened by Roo and gave sight to a group of people standing at a safe distance from Yasopp and Benn, each holding a longbow.

It was strange not to be noticed, but all of the attention in the room was focused on Benn, who stood at the end of the hall, bow raised, arrow nocked on to the string. His concentration could be gripped with bare hands as he aimed for the target. Shanks breath halted, while he couldn't avert his eyes from the man. Muscles tensed, small drops of sweat running down his temple, Benn was nothing but beautiful.

A low whirr announced the releasing of the arrow. A second later cheers filled the large hall and while everyone admired the accuracy of Benn's shot, Shanks wasn't able to. His eyes felt like glued to the other man's face, taking in every single shift in the concentrated expression. Those grayish eyes became a little darker, the brows were furrowed and when Benn bit his lower lip, Shanks wanted to kiss that frown away.

Guilt filled his stomach when he realized what he was thinking and how he reacted to Benn once again. Just like in the auction house, Shanks wished for things to be different but knew they weren't. Benn had endured enough and no way would he increase this burden by imposing his own selfish desires on him.

The thoughts helped to force his gaze away from Benn and to the target, a round disk, and again Shanks' eyes widened when he noticed that Benn not only hit the bull's eye but there were three arrows already stuck in the very center of it. A large part of Shanks wished at least one of them was Yasopp's doing, but when a hand patted his shoulder, he knew it wasn't.

"Amazing, isn't it," Roo grinned and pushed Shanks further into the archery. He stumbled but didn't fall, no matter it felt like it. "I showed him around yesterday between breakfast and lunch. We went to the gym after he had seen the library, where Yasopp was testing a new bow. I convinced him to shoot, and he hit every single time. I never saw someone give Yasopp a run for his money like that!"

It was amazing to see how Benn could shoot, but Shanks immediately wondered why the man had looked so dissatisfied with his skills. As if he felt what he did wasn't good enough. The thought was scary, making Benn appear like a honed weapon. Had he been a dangerous toy for previous masters who craved for blood? Cause no matter how much Benn would have wanted to deny the orders - with the necklace, he wouldn't have had any chance to refuse.

"The bow's too small. It's the largest bow we have and it's still too small. Didn't believe I would ever meet someone who… oh," Shanks heard Yasopp talking to Benn, the cheers having died down to exited whispers. However, as soon as Yasopp spotted the two new members of the audience, his eyes met Shanks and he stopped in the middle of his sentence "Shanks."

Hearing this name, Benn turned to face the new spectators. Their gazes met and for a short moment, everything else was forgotten while Shanks took in the other man's features again. This time the connection was mutual. Without a word spoken, he knew Benn was surprised to see him, confused even as he wasn't sure how to handle facing the redhead. Shanks would have loved to speak up, to tell him he didn't need to be afraid, didn't need to see Shanks as his superior, owner, master, whatever, but before any words could leave his lips, Benn broke the eye contact, attempting to bow.

"Stop!" he called out, making Benn halt in his movement. With long strides Shanks closed the distance, ignoring the stares of the other people, trying to smile no matter it felt near to impossible to do so. "You don't have to bow in front of me. No one has to."

"As you wish," Benn replied, tone indifferent as usual and it was like a strike to Shanks' heart, but he took the blow without hesitation. There were too many people around to lose his face.

"I didn't want to interrupt you. I…," he said and then stopped because he wasn't sure how to go on. Usually Shanks wasn't afraid to just speak what was on his mind, but right now he feared he might say something inappropriate, things that would destroy more than they would help. "I would like to ask for a little of your time in the evening. Can you come to my room after dinner?"

A short nod was all Shanks got as an answer and at once he wished his words hadn't sounded so suggestive. He wished he hadn't seen disgust washing over Benn's face before a cool neutral mask slid into place like a well practiced disguise that didn't betray any feelings.


	7. insecurity

Shanks used the time between the visit of the archery and dinner to have a talk with Professor Clover. The news about Robin worried him, even though he had no idea what to do about it. Those commotions could be caused due to Robin showing herself in public, or maybe she had just been spotted by accident. Both versions were possible, and there could very well be a whole lot more reasons for the uproar. The problem was that nothing of it had happened in Shanks' territory, and therefore open investigation was not permitted. He couldn't risk a war, and Kaidou had always had an aggressive attitude. Buying and freeing the slaves had been risky enough - Shanks knew he would better not set a foot on the other Yonko's land for a while.

"I'll promise to send someone to check things out, but it needs to be undercover," he said, a frown on his face, as he sat on an armchair in the library. "You're sure the commotion has been in Nanohana?"

He got a resolute nod from the professor, who had looked the place up again to be sure as he had forgotten the name earlier during his discussion with Roo. Nanohana was the harbor city where Shanks had anchored the Red Force while they had been in Alubarna to free all those people… Benn. To think he had been so close to Robin but missed her managed to form a lump in his throat. His heart felt like a stone, becoming heavier with each passing second. For years the girl had been on her own, and Shanks hated that he hadn't managed to convince her she was safe with him. Damn those government dogs, damn those Warlords who judged people with no consideration of their age, character or their circumstances. He knew Robin was no bad person, he knew the girl needed someone to care for her, but the world didn't allow her to live freely. If he had just been a little older back then, a little more powerful... It was just another example of how wrong it was for him to be a Yonko. He couldn't free Benn. He couldn't protect a person who needed protection. He wanted to scream, but refrained from it - the surprise would probably cause the old professor to have a heart attack, and he didn't need that on his conscience together with everything else already weighing him down.

"I'll see who can ride there early in the morning tomorrow," Shanks finally said, forcing himself to stop brooding and to concentrate on the present instead. Light was playing on the floor, coming from above. Some golden sunrays sneaked their way into the library and played with the shadows, lost in their eternal dance. Suddenly he realized that the professor was watching him with a peculiar expression. He had tilted his head a little, as if he wanted to have a better look at his superior.

"You were in Sabaody, visiting Master Rayleigh, right?" Professor Clover asked and the unexpected statement made Shanks jump a little. His head snapped up and his back straightened. How did the man know? He had only told a few people why he had been away from the palace, and he knew they would not gossip about his whereabouts or reasons. But Clover had always been a very thoughtful and wise man, so Shanks shouldn't be surprised he had guessed his destination right.

His eyes wandered over the older man. His phrasing alone told Shanks the professor had been at the palace for a long time. Only those who had lived under the reign of Roger and had known how life had been in this palace during the times of the High King called Rayleigh master. Not out of fear or because a necklace forced them to do so, but out of respect towards a man who combined wisdom with strength… and sometimes recklessness. Roger had never wanted to be addressed so formally, but Rayleigh had allowed some people to use his title in order to rise and lead as the first minister and right hand of the highest king. Shanks had had to call Ray 'master', too, or else he would have never learned how to be respectful and would still be the insolent brat he used to be.

"Yes, I was there," Shanks answered carefully, absently plucking at some strands of his hair. Realizing what he was doing, he lowered his hand. Unconscious movements always betrayed his nervousness.

"Have you possibly been talking about that new young man, Benn?"

Shanks tensed, his suspicions roused. Magic twirled in his soul, the memory of what had happened still fresh in his mind. He knew the professor had met Benn while he had been gone; maybe that was the reason they were suddenly discussing Benn instead of Robin. Or had Roo let something slip about Shanks' reason to visit Rayleigh?

"I take your silence as a yes… has something, well, happened?" Immediately his loss of control came to Shanks' mind, but when Clover went on speaking, only confusion remained. "Has Master Rayleigh behaved strangely when you told him about Benn?"

Unlike Shanks, Rayleigh had been his usual self. Sure, he had been surprised to see Shanks wearing an owner's ring, and even appalled when he discovered the black magic clinging to it, but other than that there hadn't been a moment his old teacher had acted odd. Only he, only Shanks hadn't been himself.

"No. Nothing out of order has happened with Ray," Shanks answered truthfully, relieved he hadn't had to admit his outburst. Worrying his people wasn't something he wished to do, and nothing bad had happened anyway, hadn't it? After all, no one had been hurt… "Why?"

The question hung in the air, wavering like a balloon, ready to pop. But the bang didn't come - instead, the tension slowly subsided due to a mumbling from the old professor.

"Not important, not at all. I guess I was just mistaken. I never knew them well enough anyway."

"Who?" Shanks asked, now curious rather than concerned. It felt like, for a moment, the professor had been lost in memories of times long before Shanks had known Roger. He loved hearing those stories, they always were entertaining and often promised a good laugh. Before Roger had become High King, the duo of his adoptive father and Rayleigh had always been up to adventures and crazy stunts. Sure, Shanks had witnessed that behavior for quite a long time while he lived with Roger, but he knew there had been a time before him, and he longed to know more about it to get a better image of the two men who raised him.

He was disappointed when Professor Clover shook his head and smiled with forced politeness. "No one important, Shanks. No one Rayleigh needs to be remembered of. We should probably go to get some dinner."

With those words, the old man got up from his seat and headed through the large room towards the exit. When he crossed a fading beam of light, his shadow fell on the ground and Shanks wondered what sad memory lay hidden behind those words. He refrained from asking, he knew there wouldn't be an answer. It had to be quite gloomy, Shanks thought, to drive the librarian out of his familiar surroundings into the arms of a large group of people out of his own free will. He usually avoided showing up for a meal too early.

* * *

Despite the few days Benn had now lived in the palace since he had arrived, he still was amazed by the small things rather than those people would call impressive. He didn't pay attention to the large pillars holding up the ceiling of the dining room, but noticed all the scents that filled the hall at dinner time. The cheery laughter surrounding him amazed him. Roo was a brilliant cook and the atmosphere during the meals was never hostile, as he had experienced it many times before in other households. There was no fear of getting too little food and leaving hungry. For slaves, it wasn't uncommon to go with very little food - not particularly for pleasure slaves like him who were kept in good shape because they were expensive and had to look attractive and vital, but the maids, the kids, the old and weak ones were pushed even further into misery as they wouldn't make high prices even if they were properly nourished and healthy. But here… Roo would rather cook something extra than allowing a single person to go hungry.

Working with the cooks and assistants was a hard but welcomed job. Benn wasn't used to working in a kitchen and didn't yet know how to do things properly. He never had learned how to cook but no one had gotten angry at his mistakes and he was a fast learner. After his training with Yasopp, he had hastened to the kitchen and while he had been able to occupy his mind during work, it was hard to continue doing so while he sat at one of the long tables, a plate of the food he had helped to prepare in front of him. His eyes drifted around the hall aimlessly until he caught a sight of red hair.

Benn suddenly felt sick. He picked at the sweet potatoes on his plate, but couldn't force himself to eat anymore. Instead, his thoughts wandered back to that awkward moment at the archery when Shanks had asked to meet him in the evening. To Benn, it was quite clear what the Yonko wanted. No matter how nice he was treated here, no matter he was allowed to wear a scarf to cover his necklace, he still was and would stay a slave. A pleasure slave. Bought to be used and discarded like an old worn-out shirt.

Shanks isn't like that…

He wanted to believe the voice that whispered to him from the back of his mind, wished he could believe in Shanks' friendliness, in the strange connection which always formed when their gazes met, but that would be naïve. Benn knew his place and yet he hated it, hated everything about it. The more people were friendly to him, the harder it got to lock his feelings away.

He rubbed his face with his hands which got him a strange glance from Roo who was sitting next to him, but who thankfully was chatting with one of the other chefs. Benn shrugged casually, a gesture meant to tell the other man not to worry. And why should he? What was about to happen wasn't new to Benn – he knew his place – and Roo had been with the Yonko when Shanks bought him, so he should be aware of what would come to pass eventually.

"I have to excuse myself. I should get ready," Benn said in a muted voice and reached for his still full plate, but Roo stopped him. The cook's hand softly touched his arm, but the brief feeling of warmth didn't make the situation any better. Neither was that sad look on Roo's face.

"You haven't eaten at all. I'll put it away so you can have it later when you get hungry."

Doubting his appetite would return after the meeting with Shanks, Benn nodded nevertheless, thanked Roo and left the room. He felt eyes following his steps, but he refrained from turning to see who was watching him. He could guess. It didn't matter.

* * *

A last glance into the mirror showed Benn he was almost ready to go over and knock at Shanks' door. He had showered, changed clothes and was now wearing a button up shirt and a simple trousers. The fabric was dark and airy but the fit was rather tight and emphasized his muscular body. Though he didn't own much clothes, just those he had been given at his arrival, it had taken him a while to decide what he wanted to wear. He knew he wouldn't wear what he had picked now on a daily basis, only for … occasions like this.

With each part of clothing he had stripped off, he had locked parts of himself away and when he had stepped into the new pair of trousers and put on the shirt, thick walls protected his self. Walls that would ensure he wouldn't give away his pain, disgust and misery. Walls that distanced him from what he knew could take parts of himself and just crush them.

Shanks hadn't given any orders about how he was supposed to look. Different owners had different preferences. While some liked to strip off his clothes, others enjoyed pure nakedness right at the beginning. There had been wishes concerning almost every detail, from the way he had to keep his hair to the position he had to take when his owner entered the room. But as Shanks had just kept quiet, Benn went with what he knew people usually liked. Hence the body-hugging clothes.

He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the band holding it together off. Strands, black like the night and still slightly wet, spilled over his back and framed his face. He had bound them up while he had changed, but he knew the long hair suited him, especially when he wore it open. The better he was the sooner it would be over… or so he hoped.

Next, he opened the first three buttons of his shirt, giving a glimpse of the smooth defined muscles underneath. He tried to swallow his nervousness, but his throat suddenly felt parched. Soft gray went dark, his eyes losing their shimmer. His left hand rubbed over the edges of his jawline, the pale skin a stark contrast to his lips. Dark lashes blinked away the wariness, and he straightened. There were steps sounding through the wall from the neighboring room. Shanks was walking up and down, probably waiting for him, so Benn closed the door of his wardrobe, shut away the mirror and left his self behind when he walked out of his room.

A longer distance would have granted Benn a little time to prepare himself for what was coming, but as Shanks' bedroom was directly next to his there was no chance of a delay. Shimmering red wood decorated with ornaments and carvings invited him to enter and after a deep breath Benn raised his hand and knocked once. The sound echoed through the wood and into the room. In this moment Benn realized he still wore the red scarf. He had gotten used to it by now, even though it had been just two days since he had found it freshly washed among the rest of the clothes he had been given. Somehow covering his necklace now when he would soon be used like the slave he still was, felt like a self-delusion, so he reached for the silk, unwrapped it from his throat carefully and clutched it in a tight fist.

Just when the red fabric revealed the gold underneath, the door opened and he found himself facing wonderful bright, brown eyes that seemed to devour him.

* * *

With every step Benn took out of the dining room, Shanks felt guiltier. Even though the other man's stance was upright, it felt like he was fleeing from the hall, fleeing from what he assumed would happen despite Shanks having no intention of fulfilling those nightmares. They would stay just that; images conjured by a past he could do nothing to erase. But he would try to save Benn from adding another bad memory to his collection.

His glance met Roo's who subtly indicated he should wait for another few minutes. Benn would need the time to prepare, Shanks thought to himself. But still the desire was there to just follow the man and to tell him, show him, that he was safe.

Hunger suddenly gone, he pushed his half-eaten meal aside. A risen eyebrow from the Professor, who sat across him, reminded Shanks that very few knew of Benn's former occupation, and even less could probably guess what bothered Shanks so much.

Before the librarian could say anything, Shanks picked up his fork and forced another bite down his throat. He wasn't tasting anything and he knew he wouldn't be able to empty his plate. Roo seemed to have realized as much. He got up from his spot, a full plate that probably wasn't his own – Roo would never leave leftovers on his plate – in his hand. When he reached his friend and superior, he smiled. "I assume you want to prepare yourself, so I'll put your dish away. Come down again when you get hungry, okay?"

Shanks nodded gratefully and pushed his chair back. Nothing in him indicated he would ever feel hunger again, but the thought was as foolish as it was unrealistic. When he would be lying in bed, tossing and turning because sleep wouldn't come, his hunger would probably return, since he hadn't eaten enough to keep it at bay the whole, restless night. And there was no way he would find sleep tonight.

"Thank you. I'll see you all later." With this words he rushed out of the hall, to wait for Benn to show up at his door.

* * *

Usually Shanks wasn't an impatient person, but as he waited for Benn he realized that this trait only applied to matters he didn't really care about. He cared for Benn, and with each step he took pacing in his room, his anxiety rose. He wanted Benn to feel at home in his palace, to live without the constant reminder of his past and finally realize he had the freedom to choose his own actions and that only he owned his body. But Shanks had the feeling none of this would happen until that necklace came off.

When the knock sounded, he halted in his movement, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. This would be just a simple talk, he told himself, but still he felt like it could decide the course of the whole relationship he would have with Benn. The thought had been planted in his mind by his own fears, and he hoped he wouldn't damage what little trust had grown between them.

Sighing, Shanks moved to the door. Letting Benn wait was both not polite and wouldn't do either of them any good.

He had expected to find himself facing Benn the way he had been since their first encounter in the auction house. However, what was awaiting Shanks wasn't even close to it but breathing temptation. Grayish eyes looked at him out of a beautiful, angular face framed by long silky dark hair. It were those eyes that captured Shanks' gaze first, with all their hidden sadness and pain though his features seemed like an impenetrable mask, betraying no emotion at all. Next he let his gaze wander lower, and something in him stirred involuntarily as his body reacted to the man in front of him. The dark clothes emphasized Benn's pale skin, the cut of the button up shirt and his dark trousers showed enough to let Shanks guess how well-built the other was, but still left enough to his imagination. He had the sudden urge to undress this man just to discover if those pictures his mind threw at him – pictures of muscles and smooth skin and perfection - were real. Goddess, he was weak in regard of his own desires.

Shanks swallowed hard, tried to get his mind out of the gutter and cleared his throat. Then he stepped back to make enough room for Benn to come in. There was a flicker in his own eyes, the edges of his mouth pulled downwards while he watched Benn's graceful movements. Just then, as the man passed him, Shanks noticed the red scarf clutched in his hands. He realized once more that Benn would never believe himself to be a free man and put trust in him unless he managed to free him of the metal circling his neck. That thought quenched his passion like a bucket of icewater. He really had to get a grip on himself, otherwise he might do something he would regret forever.

Benn stood in the middle of the room like a statue that didn't seem to belong with the chaos that reigned in Shanks' quarters. His grey eyes regarded him warily which forced Shanks to act. Even though he was quite sure he knew what Benn expected to happen now, he couldn't think of a way to prove that he was not like all the other people who had abused the man in front of him. While Shanks sat down on his bed he gestured for Benn to take a seat on one of the chairs next to his desk.

"Sit down," he mumbled, feeling embarrassed and self-conscious – a great contrast to his usual boisterous behavior. "You make me feel nervous with expecting something that won't happen."

* * *

Benn had no idea what he had expected but surely not this kind of a mess. Clothes had been tossed everywhere. They were strewn all over the desk that stood by a window, lay crumpled on a massive bed and even formed heaps in the corners of the room. They were probably everywhere but in the simple wardrobe that stood next to the door through which he had just come in. Bottles of different kinds of alcohol, mostly rum but also sake, added up to the picture. Roo had explained to Benn that he had to keep his room clean by himself, something he didn't mind at all since it meant that no other person would enter his room without his permission. Faced with Shanks' chaos, he wondered whether this rule applied to the Yonko as well. But that would be ridiculous, right? A man as powerful as Shanks wouldn't be expected to clean by himself for he certainly had more important things to do, like running his country. But his chaotic surroundings seemed to attest to the fact that even if tidying up was Shanks' duty, he obviously didn't do it very often.

Unsure what he should think of it, Benn was standing in the middle of the room trying not to look too curious. Controlling his expressions usually was easy for him, but he wasn't sure what feelings his face betrayed at the moment. The urge to turn around and take a look at the rest of the room pulled at him, but he was neither allowed to do so, nor had he any idea why he was so interested in his current surroundings. Probably because despite all this mess it felt like Shanks was truly living here. On the nightstand was a picture of him in his younger years with two men that seemed familiar to Benn. He could only see it out of the corner of his eye so he wasn't too sure if he actually knew them. There were pictures and maps on the wall, and random personal belongings were placed across the room. But nothing in here gave away Shanks' status. The furniture wasn't any more elaborate than his own, the room was only slightly bigger. Only the bed was made for two. All in all, Shanks' quarters didn't fit Benn's preconceived notion of how the ruler of a whole part of the common land should live.

Shanks' words pulled Benn out of his thoughts and his gaze darted to the chairs, while he tried to wrap his mind around the others' words. What exactly would not happen?

Finding two chairs that weren't actually covered by something surprised Benn, so he obeyed the command – or was it just a request? – and sat down. His back was stiff, his nerves tense, but mostly because he couldn't figure out how things would evolve from now. Shanks hadn't yet shown any intention of just taking him, but if not for that, for what other reason was Benn here?

"Benn…"

Upon hearing his name, Benn raised his head. He had avoided looking into Shanks' eyes directly, fearing that strange connection more than he longed for it. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached. Not when he might be faced with rape, as it wasn't anything else. Now, though, making eye contact couldn't be avoided any longer. The sadness that shimmered in Shanks's gaze caused him to forget his own fears for just a moment, and for the first time this evening he truly looked at the redhead. The other man's posture didn't fit a powerful ruler, but rather showed his doubts and uncertainty. Hunched shoulders, bitten lips, fingers that kept picking at the blanket again and again – Benn was surprised at how self-conscious the other man acted. Even though he had seen Shanks wearing his current clothing before, he only now realized that they weren't by any means luxurious. A simple linen shirt that was white and airy, brown trousers, sandals. His appearance wasn't impressive by any means, but damn, those brown eyes matched with the tousled red hair made him anything but plain. The angles of Shanks' face, the fine lines around his eyes when he narrowed them a little in concentration and his lips when he pulled the corners down a bit… no, Shanks probably couldn't be described as beautiful by usual standards, but there was something about him that made him stand out. It left people with the urge to dig deeper than the surface, to really get to know him and this urge pulled at Benn, too. It pushed at the walls surrounding his heart, pulled at the thin threat of trust that had begun to connect him to this man.

"… I won't touch you!"

These words somehow managed to cut through his stream of thoughts, and suddenly, Benn was on his feet again, staring at Shanks disbelievingly. His hand clenched around the already crumpled scarf, his body was vibrating with tension. This was a joke, it had to be one. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he must have misheard. What kind of game was played here, and to what purpose?

Even in times when Benn hadn't had control over what was done to his body, he had always managed to keep his mouth shut. Saying anything, insults, dares, shouts, would only have led to punishment or even his death. This sudden reaction alone would have actually been enough to enrage certain owners Benn had had before, but Shanks… Shanks still hadn't moved. The silence stretching between them was unbearable, even though noises from outside could be heard through the walls. The sound of bright, carefree laughter reached their ears, maybe a child's, but it felt far, far away. In this moment, everything outside of the room felt like a different world. A world where Benn would never belong.

His eyes followed Shanks' movements as the other man pressed his hands, plain with the exception of the owner's ring, into the mattress to push himself up from his sitting position on the bed. A low creak sounded through the room and as the man came closer, Benn's wish to run battled with his fast beating heart. The scenery was a familiar yet despised one and without effort, Benn's walls that had lowered before went back up again. Shanks' notion of not touching him was a strange one.

As Shanks silently reached for the red silk, softly pulling it out of his grip, an irritated "What?" escaped Benn's lips. The warmth that was radiating from the other man's body made his nerves prickle, every sense in him screaming to just do something, but Benn couldn't move. Frozen to the spot he waited and a shudder ran down his spine when the cold fabric touched his neck. A gentle breeze of breath brushed Benn's cheeks and his long hair got tangled in the scarf. Shanks was so close that Benn could smell his scent, a mix of what he believed to be rum, honey and something… something that was uniquely Shanks and that made his heart ache with longing.

An endless moment later Shanks stepped back while the red fabric stayed draped loosely around Benn's neck with the ends hanging down his chest, covering the necklace and the skin his partly opened shirt revealed. Only now he realized Shanks had stuck to his word. He hadn't been touched. Not even once.

"I am sorry if I gave you a wrong impression. I should have thought about what my words would mean to you. I'm just not good… with words," Shanks said, while he moved back to sit on the bed. It creaked softly under the weight. A weary smile graced his lips. Benn was still keeping silent, too shocked to form a coherent sentence. His gray eyes watched the other intently from above, tracing the softened lines of Shanks' face. His expression betrayed his disbelief of what had just happened. And it wasn't only disbelief he felt, his inability to predict what would happen next made him feel uneasy, like he had lost any control over the situation and therefore was completely at Shanks' mercy.

"Roo has told me you work with him in the kitchen," Shanks kept on speaking. He had probably realized Benn wouldn't say anything. Not yet. Or never again. Benn felt like he had forgotten how to speak. Or how to exist. Maybe he would just disappear any moment. However, he managed to nod. It was a small gesture but it seemed to encourage his current… his… Shanks to continue speaking.

"Do you like the work?" It was a simple question. A question a considerate employer would ask his employee after some days of work, to see if everything was alright. It was the kind of question that made Shanks into a very good person… and let Benn look like the fool he was. Suddenly shivering, he sat himself back down onto the stool, afraid his knees wouldn't hold him any longer. A slave… he was a simple slave but yet a part of him wasn't feeling like it anymore. Just because Shanks had had the chance to use him and had decided not to take it. And maybe also because of the consideration he showed by asking Benn if he was happy with his assigned work.

"Yes…"

The answer came after an endless moment of silence and Benn's voice was uncharacteristically flat. It wasn't a lie – after all, he did like the work. He felt appreciated working with people who valued his help, and it was good to see how something as simple as food could make people happy. Food was important and in Shanks' palace it was both good and plenty. It was a place where people lived without fear, where you could feel secure, and where even a slave like Benn was only ever treated with respect and kindness. This was what being a free man must feel like, Benn thought with bitterness and yearning alike, for he wouldn't risk opening up to this new life. What could he believe? What was he to expect? Why was Shanks not using him like the slave he was? He didn't behave like any other person who had owned him before. Who was that man, and especially, who was he to him, to Benn?

"Good, I guess. Roo has already said he would like to keep you in the kitchen, so that's settled. Go talk to Yasopp about the salary. As a cook's assistant, you don't earn that much, but it should be decent enough," Shanks said smiling encouragingly, but despite his cheerful demeanor, something about him told Benn that he was still sad. Maybe it was the tone of his voice? Or his eyes which seemed less bright, looking dark and exhausted?

Benn wanted to reply with a 'Thank you' but was struck silent. His brain hadn't fully processed Shanks' words. He had been so lost in his thoughts that it took a while before he realized their meaning. A sharp inhale announced his surprise, and he clenched his hands into fists.

"Salary?" Benn asked, searching the other's face for the lie. But he could find no hint of it, and when their eyes met, he saw surprise in them. Real, honest surprise about the redirected question. It made his heart beat faster, though he was unaware of the reasons.

"Yes, as I said it won't be much. Yasopp can tell you the exact sum. And you will also get two days off," was the simple answer out of Shanks' mouth, his ever-fidgeting fingers coming to a rest for a moment. Laughter sounded again from outside, cheery and loud, and it would have been a good opportunity for them to break the eye contact as it had grown more and more intense. But they were unable to look away, lost in each other's gazes. Invisible strings seemed to bind them together.

"But I'm a slave." The words had slipped without thought, and already Benn wished he hadn't spoken his mind. The metal felt heavy around his neck and he forced his hands to keep still, so they wouldn't reach for it and remind Shanks of the tangible truth of his words. All he could do was stare into Shanks' eyes, watching them becoming more and more dull. Everything in Benn wanted to shout, to scream, that it was not fair to be treated with so much kindness and understanding, when this cursed necklace spoke a different language. He wanted to insult Shanks, dare him to take the thing off. He wore the bloody ring and therefore owned him. Yet he treated Benn like a free man.

The contrast between Shanks behavior towards him and Benn's apprehension of how people used slaves like himself made him feel unsettled. The constant fear of Shanks changing his mind about him forced Benn to keep his guard up in the other's presence constantly. He already dreaded the moment Shanks would decide to make use of the golden band around his finger. The moment he would decide solely looking at him wasn't enough. No person was that generous. The worst was that Benn knew it would hurt, and if he opened up to the other man now, it would only be worse. Not wanting to make himself more vulnerable by revealing any more, he decided to keep silent.

"No, you are not," Shanks said while he pushed himself up from the bed. Red hair covered his face as he turned to the window over the desk. Maybe he was looking for the source of laughter that had already faded away. A pang of guilt made Benn's heart ache at the sight. He longed to see the expression on Shanks' face, yet he remained seated. Shanks' sadness was his doing, but he felt unable to take back his words for they were true. "Go to bed, Benn. You'll have to get up early for work tomorrow."

The voice that reached Benn was so saturated with defeat, it felt like a slap in the face. He realized his words had really hurt Shanks and anguish filled him. He wondered what had happened to him in the past. He had sounded so insecure and lost, it physically hurt the tall man. Had Benn permanently damaged what had been between them? He was unable to find the answer as Shanks had turned away from him. He had shut him out as it was his right, and Benn had to accept the dismissal. Getting to his feet, he crossed the distance to the door, opening it. Before he went out, though, he looked back at Shanks who still stood in the same spot, hair covering his face. Yet he couldn't hide the tears that silently fell on his clothes.

Feeling the need to say something to make Shanks better but unable to apologize, Benn fled. Guilt drove him and as soon as he had shut the door, his feet started to move until he ran in an attempt to get away from a whirlwind of feelings he couldn't quite place.


End file.
